I got home from work a little early yesterday and I was cagey. I was supposed to meet Chuck at a quarter after five but it was impossibly nice outside. 80° (27 C), only a few wispy clouds in the upper atmosphere, and a barely there mild breeze. I readied my bike and dressed, wheeled the bike outside at five after… and there was no way I was waiting ten more minutes. I threw a leg over the top tube and rolled, my characteristic cycling smile stretched across my face.
The first mile was a little tougher than I expected it would be but I didn’t care. I headed toward Chuck’s house, figuring I’d pick him up along the way. I showed up at his driveway and his wife’s bikes were hung in the garage, along with his rain bike and his tandem, but his bike was nowhere to be found. I checked my phone, “On my way” 5:14 pm. It was 5:17, he must have gone a different way out of his subdivision so I high-tailed it back to my house. Sure enough, there he was in my driveway. We had a laugh and rolled out.
Traffic was fairly light and we didn’t get buzzed once. Somebody in a white Chevy Silverado, 2017, yelled something out the window at us as we cruised in the bike lane down a busy city street, but I assumed it was “You guys are awesome!” or something like that, because obviously we are.
Chuck has a big ride this evening so we kept the pace pretty subdued and just enjoyed the ride… and the suntan! Normally, by this time in May we’ve had dozens of perfect days like that, but they’re in short supply so we passed my road up like a dirty shirt and kept riding. Eventually, we turned back toward my place as I had some dinner to get ready, but I waited until the last possible minute.
I did what we do when we get a perfect day for cycling; I squeezed every mile I could out of it. Eight extra miles, to be exact. Then I went to a meeting… because everything in recovery is better with a meeting.
My gratitude for being me on laying down to bed was immeasurable, and that’s as it should be.