Aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah

So I haven't ridden my bike in nearly a week. My schedule this last week has been sort of erratic, so mostly it was for good reasons. I either had something going on after work or it just wasn't very convenient. But if the truth is to be told, I didn't really want to ride much. If a reason came along it was very easy for me to not ride. I tend to regard biking as an activity that has an ebb and a flow. I've noticed that during the summer my mileage in July tends to drop. It used to be because we had a large annual camping event toward the end of the month and I would stop commuting because of the constant errands I needed to run (Honey, I'm going to the liquor store. Yes, Again.) Couple that with about 9 days of vacation and the commuting mileage for July is next to nil. But we haven't been able to make the annual event the last two years and my mileage has still dipped in July. I'm guessing that my body is just telling me that it needs a little time out of the saddle. As I get older, I'm getting smarter about listening to what my body is telling me. Perhaps as I get old I'll start listening to what the universe is trying to tell me too. Perhaps.

Barry Manilow said, "Oh how I miss you." John Waite said "I ain't missing you at all." The Rolling Stones said "Aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah, Aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah aaah, Aaah aaah aaah aaah; Lord, I miss you child." Bob Dylan croaked "You're the other half of what I am, you're the missing piece." Spike Jones sang, "You always hurt the one you love." OK, that last one probably more accurately describes my attitude toward regularly scheduled maintenence, but you get the idea. Poets and songwriters have always written about missing somebody or something. It's a human theme that gets repeated over and over. Tonight when I was walking to the train station I watched a biker pull out into traffic and ride past me. I caught up to him at the light and while we waited for it to change I stared at him. Openly. The light turned green and he sprinted off down the street while I plodded across the crosswalk. As I walked I realized that I had been staring at him with a kind of longing. I wanted to be on my bike, not walking down the sidewalk. So tomorrow, barring unforseen circumstances, again I ride.



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