Riding & Burnt Steak
Today afforded an opportunity to ride.
It was a brief ride, not even seven kilometers, but with yesterday's eight I am happy with it.
I enjoyed getting lost in the physicality of it, the feel of the pavement under the wheels and under my butt. I am starting to think that a hardtail was not the best choice but I know I will get used to it.
Cycling, to me, is about the senses: The feel of the wind in your hair, the sound of the air whipping past your ears and the sensation of every bump of the road.
Bump, bump, whoosh, whoosh, bump.
I hardly notice the cars passing me by.
Today and yesterday were trial runs. The trails are calling and tomorrow I am going to answer.
---
On a separate note, I cooked steak for dinner. I burnt it. Fire consumed my creation. It was everywhere. I wasn't really scared until I realized I had no idea how to put it out. So I just pulled the tray out of the oven. The fired died.
As I told myself to relearn fire safety tips in the kitchen, sirens blared.
"They couldn't be for me," I thought. They sounded like fire trucks, but they couldn't be for me. They weren't.
Still, I must learn how to pput out a kitchen fire.
It was a brief ride, not even seven kilometers, but with yesterday's eight I am happy with it.
I enjoyed getting lost in the physicality of it, the feel of the pavement under the wheels and under my butt. I am starting to think that a hardtail was not the best choice but I know I will get used to it.
Cycling, to me, is about the senses: The feel of the wind in your hair, the sound of the air whipping past your ears and the sensation of every bump of the road.
Bump, bump, whoosh, whoosh, bump.
I hardly notice the cars passing me by.
Today and yesterday were trial runs. The trails are calling and tomorrow I am going to answer.
---
On a separate note, I cooked steak for dinner. I burnt it. Fire consumed my creation. It was everywhere. I wasn't really scared until I realized I had no idea how to put it out. So I just pulled the tray out of the oven. The fired died.
As I told myself to relearn fire safety tips in the kitchen, sirens blared.
"They couldn't be for me," I thought. They sounded like fire trucks, but they couldn't be for me. They weren't.
Still, I must learn how to pput out a kitchen fire.
