Turning on the lights — rear blinkie and front headlight — are as symbolic as they are practical. That’s when the morning starts, that’s the delineation between the drudgery of morning tasks and the adventure that is my trip to work.

Even then, though, I often resent the start of the day. I would prefer to sleep, to not have to face the cold, to not put my body through its paces. This feeling changes as soon as I start rolling. There is something magical about that moment, an internal smile that is the reward for facing the day.

Today the magic moment started even earlier. As I turned the headlight on, the light reflected tiny snowflake flurries dancing in the air. I’m not a snow-lover, but even I was charmed.

And so it was a day when the good things were noticed. The *shush* of the wheels on pavement, the power in my tired legs, the personal satisfaction in having timed my sprint perfectly to float across an intersection in the sweet spot of safety, these were all felt in a more conscious way than usual. As if my inner child had woken up and was excitedly pointing out to me all the things that have become routine.

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