A Saturday bike ride, chilly and damp, made lovely by the utter dearth of people on the Keystone and Big Papio trails.
I don’t usually ride trails, but I needed brainless pedaling, free from traffic, free from decisions any more complex than “North first? Or south?” And the prevailing winds decide that anyway.
Hawks swooped startled from nearby branches, only to reperch and regard me without concern. Gaggles and gaggles of Canada geese declined to move from where they sqatted alongside the trail, between the trail and the ravine, in the fields across miles of scrub grass or fallow fields. Though it was overcast, gloomy, and wet, it was still about 45-50 degrees with a stiff wind out of the south. With the trails almost compass-straight north and south, I alternated between 17 mph and 12-13, with about the same amount of effort. Actually, I alternated between “I AM FLEET AND FAIR AND STRONG!” and “I am the fattestlaziestlousiest rider of bikes in the world.”
I rode 35 miles on flat paved trails, pshaw, nothing. Used to be nothing. Now that I’m so long between rides of any kind, much less good long ones, it’s something and I’m proud. I claimed my hot tub time like a weary boxing champ, chanting, “I am still a contendah!” Until the lightning began, when I climbed back out, dripping and muttering, “I am still not stupid.”
During a commute or even a long social ride, my brain is focused on traffic, cadence, performance, form, ohshitabighill, or — sometimes just as challenging — making clever conversation.
Saturday’s ride was completely in my head. #SoZen. I had a lot of time to think, and some of that thinking was about how I might write about the ride I was on. #SoMeta.
But I wasn’t thinking about the blog. I still have to remind myself I’ve rekindled the blog.
So I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that my thoughts about Saturday’s ride came to me in 140-or-fewer-character bursts.
Time to untrain the Twitter brain.