NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I know it’s wrong to talk of illness in the throws of a global pandemic, but given my two-year on/off relationship with my bike, for me to ride three out of the past four days must mean I’m ill. In an awesome, it feels good to sweat, slobber, pant, and wake up sore sort of way. Cheez-Its H. Rice, that made it sound like I was having sex with a bear. A bear, not a “bear.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I woke up Friday morning to a light dusting of snow on the ground (Welcome to Michiganderburgh). Thankfully that would soon melt off, but the temps would never get above 40˚, and the wind was coming right from the Witch’s nip tip. In other words, it was a good day to head out for a woodsy walk with my camera.
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.
Most of the past week was spent in the gym lifting heavy things for no reason, in the dentist chair having my mouth torn apart, or in various doctor’s offices having my brain shrunk or now mended ankle looked at.
The past summer has been rough for a multitude of reasons. Most of that painful miserableness has been documented here in recent posts. So, let’s move on, finally.
My life, am I right?
Mistakes were made. Again.
I don’t give myself credit too often, mostly because there is little to give credit for, but I will give myself a quick pat on my meaty back for somehow getting up and out the door on my bike early Sunday morning.
After a day at the shop on Friday, I was eager to get out on the new bike (Mr. Burgundy) and dial it in on Saturday.
I got out for a nice 27-mile ride on Tuesday. I’ve had better rides, but God knows I’ve had worse rides, so I’ll just shut my cake trap and be happy that I was out on my bike, the sun was out, and I returned with the faint hints of sunburn to my raw chicken fat looking man-flesh.
