Cheryl and I did a half day on the bikes yesterday, peddling through the flat rural landscape of north Florida. We did an out-n-back along a twenty mile stretch of paved trail, converted from an old rail line between Keystone Heights and Palatka, FL. It was my first ride of forty miles (or more) in at least four years – and late-forty legs REALLY felt the last five miles. But it was a great…
For no particular reason, I was thinking about the things that I do poorly the other day. (You may be reading this and thinking about the same thing.) Last night I got on my bike and everything got a whole lot better. I’ve missed bicycling. I’ve never tried meditation, but I wonder if my bike has a similar effect (on me).
I hop on my bike, start peddling, and for long stretches I lose…
On an intellectual level, I knew that going ten months without exercise (of any kind) would have an effect on my body. Yesterday I did twenty minutes on the rollers* in a low gear (with both resistance units removed), and I just about died. I was dizzy, my legs were reduced to two pillars of Jell-o, and my heart wanted out in a big way.
I thought I was starting out slow, but maybe I need to…
Yesterday I was presented with a choice. I was given an opportunity to react to some offensive behavior. I was given the opportunity to act like an adult, to place myself above the fray, and be an example of responsible behavior.
And of course, once again I went the other way with it.
Once again this choice presented itself on the road. Once again I was on my bike. Once again I was startled into a…
It started innocently.
“Beth, I’m not sure you should ride your bike until I can tighten those training wheels, unless of course you want me to take them off?”
“Alright dad, take them off.”
Fifteen minutes later we were together on the sidewalk; father, daughter, and bicycle. The father was standing behind it all, grasping the seat. The daughter was astride the bike…
The bike is back, baby! They say that one day of exercise is better than none, and we’ll be testing that theory this week, or so it seems. What began as a week filled with promise is slowly degenerating into this summer’s pattern: when it’s not raining there’s something that needs to be done with a car. Yesterday? Lower back pain induced by hurricane preparations. Today?
I have been the satisfied owner of a neon yellow, aluminum frame, Trek bicycle since January 1991. I have gone in and out of bicycle shops through the years, but I’ve restricted my browsing to items of need rather than desire. In this way, I have substantially eluded the phenomenon known as “Post-shopping stress disorder”, or P.S.S.D. (pronounced “pissed”). References…
This is a story of a man whose adventures will one day be remembered in song. This is the story of John, of the suburban warrior clan Kauffman.
“Yeah, though he walks through the shadows of the valley of Beth, he shall fear no tantrum.”
“Neither early hour, lack of sleep, looming holiday, nor foul taste of breath, shall keep him from his appointed rounds.”
“Sick to…