Monday, July 13, 2009

Four days off

Sometimes, riding feels like a chore. Times when the alarm goes off at six, and the sun is barely tiptoeing across the roof of early morning clouds, and the crust in your eyes is hardened to a cement-like texture; times when the realization hits that drooling on a pillow is an infinitely more enticing way to spend the morning than wheezing and floundering up a couple of hills. Or when you have been riding seemingly every day without enough rest, and your muscles cramp or twitch or puff like a startled cat at the thought of another day on the bike. Sometimes, as absurd as it may seem, you want time away from the bicycle.

And then there are times when you are forcefully dragged away from it. Typically the persistence of compulsory commitments is enough to substantially whittle time riding. And weather is a common culprit, as testing your physical limits is tenuous enough without being blinded and soaked by a storm. But sometimes, something unique hinders riding plans. Perhaps a morning off during the holy month of somethingorother is in order. Or maybe that festering saddle sore still hasn't healed up. And even once in a while (hopefully only once, or never if you’re lucky) during the humid summer months, hearty and seething bacteria ascend your urethrea, colonize your fleshy cylindrical urinary meatus, and inflict such tortuous pain upon your saddle-region that even the mere thought of swinging a leg over a bicycle sends spasms throughout the entirety of your alimentary canal.

At least it wasn't swine flu.

Happy riding.