Yesterday's unpleasantness in the morning forced me to abandon my own bike and keep it in the basement and borrow my father in law's old folding Dahon, which moves deceptively quick. The wheels are smaller for sure but that is tempered by the fact that there are gears. This is the same bike I had last year while caught in a tornado that knocked down trees and, soaked, had to get on an E train and catch near-hypothermia. I will clean the dust off it at work but otherwise it should suit me fine. I made it downtown really really fast (before 930) so my only concern is the return ride(s) as the seat is solid as a rock, and no matter how many Brazilian nuts I might eat, my prostate will feel the impact of running over a pothole. Another detail for me to keep in mind is the wheel-stand, which I will just not use, as I don't want to break it again.
Listening to the final tracks off Chickenfoot III, from "Three and a Half Letters" to the end.
I started writing again this morning. This time it's a stage show that I have discussed with a friend about what not to do and so long as it's not too much about apathy, I can make it something I'd want to see. It's about two people biking to work in opposite directions.
I ran 11.5 miles on Sunday, and I can feel it a little in my calves, but I'm fine.
Last week was incredibly difficult for me to wake up in the morning and after two consec. days of flat tires, I made it my business to wake up on time.
The return ride is the concern, and one that will be conquered.
Thank you for reading.
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