In the years since I stopped biking it turns out the sport has become even more extreme...well extremely expesive. They now make bikes with 29'' tires and suspensions that look fit for jeeps. An entry-level "good" mountain bike will now run you, oh, $1,500. I do not own such a bike. Like most things I love, my bike was made in the 90's. She weighs more than a pack of sled dogs, squeals incessantly, and costs less than half the price of an Xbox, but she is twice as fun and has the added bonus of making me look super-fly as I pedal through town.
Since rediscovering her in a storage space at my grandmother's home, she has forgiven me and decided to let me zip and zoom on her once again (I hope that didn't sound too dirty). Since then I've traveled about 100 miles on the Erie Canal, visited two of the Finger Lakes, and on one overly ambitious day, went on a 65 mile loop that made my bum sore for days; it was totally worth it, except when I fell asleep on the stairs because I was too tired to walk the rest of the way up. Recently I took a ride with Allie around Onondaga Lake Park to a health food store about 12 miles away. We rewarded ourselves with smoothies, which Allie proceeded to immediately knock on the ground, shortly before she proceeded to do the same with her bike. The moment could not have been anymore quintessentially Allie, until she laughed it off and put a smile right back on her face (after a bit of pouting).
Feeling revitalized I was actually able to keep up with her heading back towards the park. Allie is a far better biker with a far lighter and faster road bike, so keeping up with her can be a truly monstrous task. We parked our bikes, unfolded her/our Kammok (an awesome hammock contraption), and took in the picture perfect day.
It was about then that I was in the middle of my good mood streak; nothing has really been able to get me down too much for a few weeks now. Despite having a multitude of short and long-term obstacles that need to be tackled, I've been able to focus on the bright spots of my days and force the darkness to to the far extremes of my mind. It's kind of like a Baroque painting that teems with life in the center, but is drenched in black on the outskirts. As long as I keep it moving, on Shiva, on the Trail, with my Bears and company, I'll keep a smile on my face as I take the obstacles on.
Upon completing this post, Allie and I took a 25 mile ride that climbed some 3,000 feet in elevation. It was long, painful, and I no longer like biking; please ignore everything I just wrote....I'm renaming my blog Golf Lust, it just seems less painful.
