by David Henderson

I'm passionate about bicycling. It's the best exercise I've found. But bicycling is much more than exercise. It's a great way to explore the world or my own hometown. Living in the Washington, DC, area just adds to the thrill of any ride.

My typical Saturday morning ride begins at a place called Gravelley Point, just north of Washington National Airport, with planes making their final approach right overhead. It's the place where many bicyclists start their rides.

Head to the south from this place along the wide Potomac river and the bike trail takes you through historic old Alexandria, founded in 1733. Another 17 miles farther south the trail ends at Mount Vernon, George Washington's magnificent estate overlooking the Potomac. The bike trail today roughly follows the same wagon trail that Washington used often when he traveled to Alexandria, an important shipping port in his time, and then on to Philadelphia.

My ride today takes me north. It's just a couple of miles up the bike trail beside the Potomac to Memorial bridge. Even though it's still early on Saturday morning -- about 7 -- the serious bicyclists and runners are out on the trail. "On your left," you say softly to give a runner the heads-up that you are passing. While Washington is famous for protocol, no where is it more genuine that along this paved trail.

Memorial bridge is Washington's most beautiful bridge. As I ride across, I remember watching newsreels long ago of President John Kennedy's funeral procession moving slowly across this same bridge, heading to Arlington National Cemetery.

You'll frequently see scenes in West Wing and motion pictures that were shot on or beside the bridge. It makes for an impressive backdrop. The Potomac is just over one mile wide at this point. It'd be great to run into Allison Janney this morning and offer to buy her a cup of coffee. No such luck.

"The incredible historic monument ride," as I call it, begins on the east side of Memorial bridge. First is the Lincoln Memorial, one of my favorites. Tourists are already walking up the steps to see the giant statue of old Abe. I hope they take the time to read his words -- etched in marble in this memorial -- that helped shape our nation.

Martin Luther King stood on those steps and spoke of having a dream. Forrest Gump was there, too, but no one heard what he said.

Beyond the Lincoln Memorial is the reflecting pond, about a foot deep and filled with goose "you know what ... "

And on a grassy rise sits the Washington Monument, 555 feet high. Tourists lined up there, too, for the gates to open at 8 o'clock. It's at the Washington Monument that the Mall begins -- a mile and a half long wide grassy area that stretches to the Capitol building. The Mall is lined with some of the nation's most treasured museums and galleries, most part of the Smithsonian museum complex. There is no charge to enter any of them, all open to the public and all magnificent.

And, then, my favorite building on earth, the United States Capitol. It's a place that takes my breath away, the center of power in the free world, the symbol of democracy, the centerpiece of our nation.

They say that on 911, the fourth hijacked plane was headed to destroy the Capitol or the White House. Stay away from my Capitol building! I grew up inside that place, first as a kid visiting relatives who worked at the Capitol then as a young journalist covering the Congress. The Fathers of our nation and true patriots walked its halls. You can sense their energy in every footstep.

I've walked up and down that narrow stairway on the west side with its well-worn sandstone steps where the British entered in 1812 and set fire to the Capitol. That was the last time any enemy has entered this place.

Right after 911, I sneaked in, despite heavy security, and stood in the center of the rotunda, just to make sure everything was all right. It was. A Capitol policeman finally approached and asked what I was doing. I told him, and he understood. I ride my bicycle around this symbol of freedom nearly every week. "Touch stone," is what I think the Welsh say, to wish something safety. I touch the stones of this old place and say a prayer for the safety of all of us in these times. Say what you may about our lawmakers, we elected them and it is our great experiment in democracy.

Then, my trail continues east along East Capitol Street lined with 19th century brownstones. It's Capitol Hill, known simply as "the Hill."

Washington's most popular farmer's market is on the Hill. It's the Eastern Market. Been here for a hundred years. Today, it's where you can find the freshest produce directly from local farms, fresh fish from the nearby Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic, meats from farms in Virginia and Pennsylvania, incredible breads and fresh flowers. But you had better come early. I meet friends for coffee. The place is local and funky and much better than Starbucks.

This is Washington, DC on any Saturday morning. Bicyclists, joggers, tourists from around the world, local families out with their kids. I head back, pretty much along the same route so I can see these same great monuments to freedom in different sunlight. Yet, the symbol of what they all stand for remains the same.

Writer and BoomerCafé founder David Henderson
lives near Washington, DC. and
took all these photos during a recent bicycle ride.
His email is david@boomercafe.com .

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