NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
Mere seconds after I pushed the PUBLISH button for yesterday’s word salad, my want to ride my bike went from a lowly “I’m Going Back To Bed,” 2, to a “Where are Those Silly Clothes I Stuff Myself Into to Ride My Bike,” 10. Not sure where that came from, but it did. So I rode.
The start of the ride was waylaid a bit as I riffled through my Big Drawer of Silly Clothes looking for something that still fit. If you are ever feeling down about gaining weight, and want to feel even worse about yourself (who doesn’t?). I highly recommend trying on cycling clothes. There is nothing like taking form-fitting clothing and stuffing fleshy bags of fat into them. I swear I put on one old jersey, and thought I was going to have to cut it off of myself!!
While part of me wanted to immediately abort the ride, crawl back into bed, and try to sleep the fat away, a larger part of me (they’re all large these days!) knew that riding would do more for my mood, and any potential weight loss, than sleeping. So the riffling continued, and I finally found a jersey/bibs combination that kept my on-bike embarrassment to a minimum.
The morning air was crisp, and the sun was bright as I pedaled out of the neighborhood towards the dirt roads. It was one of those mornings that you could easily find yourself forgetting the sickly chaos the world finds itself in right now. And I did my best to do just that.
***
Future home to a windmill.
Onto dirt, I rode into a light headwind and past the home of mother fucking Katie the dog. She was inside but lept at the front door as I passed. I may or may not have flipped her off.
For someone who 25 minutes earlier hadn’t even planned on riding, and was on his bike for just the third time over 5 months, I was feeling damn good. Not “I think I could still race my bike” good. But definitely, “I’m going to ride 23 miles and feel fine at the end” good.
Big sky in the mitten state.
***
Sorry.
Time alone on my bike, pedaling through the open Michigan farmland in the bright spring sun, along with good (enough) legs, did wonders for my mood and in helping me forget about the heeps of wet, smelly shit that’s been hurled from the cosmos and is currently oozing down the world’s wall. Oh well, like they say, “If you throw enough shit against the wall, someone will clean it up eventually.”
Sorry again.
Speaking of the cosmos and of shit: As I hit pavement and headed home, I rode past my first pair of roadside undies1 this year. That’s a sure sign that getting back on my bike has been a wise choice. Of course, I have no idea what the cosmos are trying to tell me with that thing lying amongst them that looks like a digested raccoon fetus. Possibly don’t eat raccoon fetuses and shit your pants along Baseline Road, but who really knows.
I think I might ride my bike again today. Because shit still be oozing down the world’s wall, and I need to keep forgetting about it.
Later.