It was very early on Sunday.

I was warm and cozy in my cocoon of blankets, waking with the first hint of dawn. Barely opening my right eye
I could sense that the room was no longer in total blackness. I teetered in that delicate balance
between sleep and alertness.

I pondered what I had planned for the morning. Did I really want to get up so early... on a Sunday morning!

What time was it? Dare I turn over to look at the clock.

I had already scuttled my plans to be on the Marina Green again for the start of the Escape from Alcatraz.
Public transit just wasn't providing any sensible options for getting there by 8:00 AM.

I rolled over on to my right side and pulled the blanket away from my face.
I opened my right eye a bit more to see the glowing red numbers. 4:47 AM.
The alarm was set for 5:00 AM. I reached my arm out from under the covers
and flipped the switch so the buzzer wouldn't totally shake me out of my sleep.

Did I really want to get up?

I threw off the blankets and sat up on my bed in disbelief of what I was contemplating.
I reached over to the desktop and grabbed the cup of coffee I placed there the night before.
I carefully removed the plastic lid and gulped down the cool tasty coffee.
I was now at a point of no return. There was no crawling back under the covers.

I pulled on my cycling gear...my shorts, socks, shoes, a sweatshirt, fleece and down vest,
and then put on a hat--backwards. I left off the cycling tights sensing I wouldn't need them
once my legs were pumping.

I grabbed my backpack, slung it over my back, stood up, checked the clock, 5:12 AM,
pushed open the door and headed for my bike. I turned on my rear red light and front headlight.
I lifted the headlamp hanging from the handlebars, pulled the strap around my hat,
and clicked the switch to a steady light.

I walked the bike up to and out the gate, closing it with care so I didn't wake the neighborhood
with the loud closing clunk.

Positioning my hands and foot, I lurched my bike forward and kicked my leg over taking position on the bike.
I rolled off the driveway and headed away pedaling down the street.

Reaching the corner, my breathing and heart rate were labored. I turned and headed east on Homestead Road.
The road was deserted. A long string of green traffic signals lured me onward.
I picked up momentum and settled into a steady cadence.

The morning air was pleasant, the chill was gone. It was very quiet, even the birds were still silent.

I passed my first Starbucks and it had yet to open.

I kept the chain in one gear and I was spinning at a consistent rate. I anticipated the signals
and adjusted my speed to catch the green light when possible. I had few cars to distract me.
My eyes relaxed in a distant gaze and I was no longer aware of my breathing and heart rate.
I was moving at a good clip and racking up the miles. I kept moving on, and on.
The streets belonged to me.

I was achieving Zen bicycling. I wasn't pedaling my bike toward San Jose, rather I was spinning
the Earth below me as I zoned out and tuned in, clearing my mind...not thinking, just doing.
My senses were beeming with the sights, smells, and sounds of early morning. I pedaled on.

Daylight was beginning to flood the valley. I shut off my lights. The birds were greeting me.
It felt like a spiritual awakening.

The streets were getting busier. Other caffeine junkies were out in search of their morning fix.
I found my fix. I was feeling an endorphin high.

My journey took me past Santa Clara University and around the southern end of
the San Jose Airport. I continued through San Jose toward Milpitas.

I veered in North San Jose and placed Moffet Field in my cross hairs.
I was moving through territory I hadn't seen for a while. There was a lot of
new construction and some vacant buildings. And acres of empty parking lots.
Great America was waking up.

I pushed on, shifting among three gears to maintain my speed and cadence.

I swung past some of my old work buildings at Lockheed. It seemed most
locations now belonged to other firms and Lockheed hid securely behind
fences, barriers, guard shacks and gates. I acknowledged the "Blue Cube."
Hush, hush, we didn't talk about that building. I moved on along the
southern end of Moffet Field remembering all the P-3's that buzzed in and out
years ago.

I turned away from Moffet, heading into and across Mt. View, over the
expressway and back towards Sunnyvale. South on Mary Avenue towards
Homestead High I was on the final long leg of my trek.

Back at Homestead Road I turned back onto the first leg of the morning.
One mile down the road from where I began my journey I pulled in at Mc D's. I
was soaked with sweat, hungry and thirsty. I locked my bike and my first
stop of course--the men's room. Then it was back to the dining area for a
big breakfast and coffee, lots of coffee.

About 2 1/2 hours and some 30 miles since I began the journey, I was thinking
that my morning insanity was about to end with a soak in the hot tub, while
for a bunch of other crazies, insanity was beginning with a jump into the
cold San Francisco Bay and their escape from Alcatraz.