sitting on the back porch

It doesn’t look it, but I had fun riding my mountain bike on the trail system nearby.  I had to keep reminding myself to let go of my frustration with people who steal bikes; to let go of stuff and simply enjoy where and who I was.  Here were some things that helped:

1.  I’m wearing armor underneath my shirt.  It’s a cool mesh shirt with high-tech gel padding on the shoulders and sides that stiffens on impact but stays light and rubbery until needed.  Skid plates in back shelter the spine.  It was a gift from my uncle charlie who figures we’re going to keep riding (and falling) for at least another thirty years.  I’m with him!

2.  On top of my shirt is the best cycling backpack and knapsack ever — raptor 14 from osprey — and a gift from my lovely wife.  I packed in a repair stuff, water, pump, first aid kit, food, wallet, etc, because the problem with not riding for a while is that nothing works quite right when you start again!

In the end, I didn’t crash, nothing broke, and I got back home more at peace than when I left.  Wearing my two gifts subtly re-establishes the equilibrium I need in my world and reminds me that stuff is less important than the messages they carry.  Very deep.  Now clearly time for a shower!

It’s been an ugly month since my last post.  I went out a few weeks ago in all my lycra-clad glory, ready to put in a ten mile ride to the gym but there was no bike.  Tons of things in the garage, but a blue bianchi road bike was nowhere to be found.  Crushing blow.  Add it to the long list of stupid stuff stolen from the driveway from roller blades to a hibachi left out to cool.  This was worse because I’m a bit more attached to the bikes than the hibachi.  Plus I use the bikes more.  I ended up driving to the gym but I was grumpy all week.  And the next.

I finally resolved to get myself out of the doldrums by riding some other bike, which is when I realized that the floor pump was also gone.  A week later, I realized the light system was also missing.  Yikes.  Everything that was visible through a side door went missing.  Minus the useless junk that mysteriously fills the garage, of course.

The hardest part is really accepting that I need padlocks on the stuff, even in hipster hastings.  Bummer. I went riding anyway, using a hand pump to fill the enormous mountain bike tires and it went a long way toward to curing my ills.

Next thing you know, I might take a picture again!