Whine and You Shall Receive.
Yesterday I whined about lugging my bike back and forth to work, only to be rained out. Day after day.
Today, the wife was sick, so I had to take the kids to school/daycare and pick them up. I didn't put the bike on the car, because I knew I would have no time to ride after work anyway. I was in a foul mood, and had splitting headache by the end of the day.
When I walked out of my tomb-like office, I was greeted by blue skies and mild temperatures. My mood darkened, because I would likely not be able to ride. I picked up a carload of screaming kids (half of them weren't mine) and contemplated driving into every light pole and off every bridge on the way home. Every high-pitched squeal drove a spike of pain through my skull, and my knuckles got whiter on the wheel. Every parent knows what I'm talking about, and if they say they don't, they're lying.
When I got home, my wife said I could ride. It took a while for that to sink in, but soon I was getting ready and riding on actual pavement. I actually picked the right combination of kit for once, and was cruising along, leaving my headache and stress behind.
A run out to the top of Potter Valley was about all I had time for, and even then I was pushing my luck. With only a feeble red blinky on the back (oh yeah, I forgot about the getting dark thing), my head was on a swivel the whole way home.
Did that car see me? Sure hope so.
Through a combination of dumb luck and very expensive reflective cycling gear, I made it home alive. I felt better than I had all day. All week. All... it's been a while.
Maybe I'll put my bike on top of my car tomorrow, just to see if I can make it rain. I hear there's good money in that gift, and I could clean up down in California.
Maybe I've found my next career...
Today, the wife was sick, so I had to take the kids to school/daycare and pick them up. I didn't put the bike on the car, because I knew I would have no time to ride after work anyway. I was in a foul mood, and had splitting headache by the end of the day.
When I walked out of my tomb-like office, I was greeted by blue skies and mild temperatures. My mood darkened, because I would likely not be able to ride. I picked up a carload of screaming kids (half of them weren't mine) and contemplated driving into every light pole and off every bridge on the way home. Every high-pitched squeal drove a spike of pain through my skull, and my knuckles got whiter on the wheel. Every parent knows what I'm talking about, and if they say they don't, they're lying.
When I got home, my wife said I could ride. It took a while for that to sink in, but soon I was getting ready and riding on actual pavement. I actually picked the right combination of kit for once, and was cruising along, leaving my headache and stress behind.
A run out to the top of Potter Valley was about all I had time for, and even then I was pushing my luck. With only a feeble red blinky on the back (oh yeah, I forgot about the getting dark thing), my head was on a swivel the whole way home.
Did that car see me? Sure hope so.
Through a combination of dumb luck and very expensive reflective cycling gear, I made it home alive. I felt better than I had all day. All week. All... it's been a while.
Maybe I'll put my bike on top of my car tomorrow, just to see if I can make it rain. I hear there's good money in that gift, and I could clean up down in California.
Maybe I've found my next career...
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