Bike Ride

Momentarily forgot about bike rides. The never ending uphill grade, the lung burn, the fight for road space when the car drivers come too close for comfort to the bike lane lines (yes, Mom, I’m wearing my helmet — of course!) the ass bruise from the too-hard bike seat (but that’s the bike seat you chose because you didn’t want to seem like a wuss buying the cushy, cushy seat deemed appropriate for the “occasional rider”), the slight waves of nausea that come at you because your breathing is so hard and gasp-y as you approach and make your way over the crest of the hill and you think back, with disgust, to the completely unnecessary third cup of coffee and the brown sugar pop tart that you downed only a half hour before your ride began. But the body goes into self-defense mode at these times and the mind wanders…to pictures from the days gone past and to words that float into your consciousness, seemingly without your control. The start of a written piece perhaps, some dialog that sounds good to the inner ear. Now you remember how these bike rides go…after a month away from them. Good times. Good times.

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