I was going to ride tonight. Or mow. Yeah, I should probably mow.
However, I got home from work and the wind was blowing pretty hard and the grass was damp from a previous light shower and it looked like maybe a storm brewing, so I bagged it. Now, an hour later, nothing – whatever system it was went by without hitting here. It would have been a nice evening for a ride. What, you didn’t think I’d mow wet grass, did you? Surely you didn’t.
I packed up my office today. I’d beaten the odds and actually stayed in the same office for about two years, but no longer. We move tomorrow into another building. I’ll miss my window and solid walls, but even though the new space is a cubicle, at least it has a lockable door. But so much for relative peace and quiet.
I will probably have to start running more. I used to run as a teenager to help exorcise my demons of frustration. I may even go tonight for a short run (since I haven’t run since, oh, April?). I can’t go too hard, though. I can’t afford to be sore on Friday.
That, by the way, was a segue.
I’m leaving on Thursday right after work (yes, I will try my best to post trivia before I go). John B. is taking a group of us over to ride three days on the Blue Ridge Parkway, starting on Friday. Am I ready? …….hmm……
Well, I guess it depends on whether I can say “ready for what?” Ready for suffering? I’d better be, ‘cause that’s what I’m in for. There’s climbing in them thar hills. I am, as advertised, a Big Guy, and thus don’t climb very well. Physics works against me (I will now refer to F=ma for all of the science-types out there – the rest of you can just nod appreciatively).
So I will suffer. Oh, how I will suffer. I will be feasting heartily on the bitter fruits of the Trees of Woe and Agony. I will hurt. I will ache. I will curse the bike, my legs, the road, and all manner of inanimate objects under my labored breath. I may even curse any cute and cuddly small woodland creatures that happen to wander too close.
But then, once I’ve stopped, had some time to recover, spent some quality time with The Stick, and gotten to hang out with my cycling friends for a while (oh, and don’t forget a nice warm shower and fresh clothes), I will look back and reflect on how that was the best time I’ve had in quite a while.
Cyclists are funny like that.
PS: And I will likely regret cursing the small woodland creatures. Unless they weren’t cute or cuddly, of course.