Often, what my body needs is a hundred and ten miles of biking with as many hills as can be found. Such was yesterday’s setup. A long round trip to get breakfast, followed by the spark to go and go and go. Nineties and early two thousands carried me along, and I sang (a somewhat strange experience when the sound is only coming into one’s ears in concert with one’s voice). A beautiful 90+ degree early July day with high humidity, perfect for being exposed on asphalt to the whims of tractor dust and semi trucks. There are two different Observatory Roads nearby, each of which was climbed and then dancingly raced to the bottom. If it’s not evident by now, perhaps if you’ve only just opened to this page, I put a lot of excess energy into my thoughts. It’s nice to have a day when every ounce of excess energy is going into pedaling, drinking water when it’s available, and feasting when that’s available. It also feels like it cancels out all the excess caffeine, but I don’t know the science there.
The morning after such a long bike ride, an early July morning full of clouds, I’m still rehydrating and watching the world slowly go by out the window. And wondering about rolling out for another extremely long bike ride. But I’m slated to run around later today, so it might be more appropriate to do a shorter one.
I can understand why people write fiction. It’s an unlimited license to accurately represent reality, whereas non-fiction, at least that which is published while one is still alive, is an unlimited license for nothing. I can see why politicians write memoirs.
Coffee is the fully experienced illusion of control.
The mind is a myth propagated by control freaks.
A lack of control is the only sound strategy.
Aphorisms require at least five words but no more than twenty.
Winning is a tragedy for everyone involved.
Roman Ryan 