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desperanceSo it was 7.30 this morning and I was revising my Mars story for submission because I had read all the newses and all of LJ and people if you don't post more I'll just have to work more and then where will we all be? - and m'wife was off to work, but she remembered what I had of course forgotten, that this was Tuesday which is meet-up-for-coffee-before-work day in downtown Sunnyvale. So I had a quick shower and pulled on some, y'know, clothes - and got on the whee!ls and biked it.
It's quicker, by bike. I'm just sayin'.
And this was the second time I have locked the bike up with my fancy locks and cables, and had to leave it out of my sight for a while; and I am of course just like a boy with a new toy, fretful and anxious and not quite able to bear myself because did I do it right? And will anyone steal my saddle? And, and, and. Always wanting to sneak up to the window to take a peek, to check; and not doing that because I'm not actually thirteen, I'm fifty-three tho' no one seems to believe it.
Actually, I have a theory that various bits of myself got stuck at various ages, and bike-riding me was clearly stuck at thirteen*. Which I think is a pity, looking back. I hated PE at school so very much that as soon as I got out I dropped any notion of exercise, apart from the walking everywhere. Even now, forty years on: Karen was trying to inveigle me into yoga, and there's just no way I will willingly walk into a gym. But I am liking the biking, and I do find myself wishing I'd done this earlier. A lot earlier, maybe. If I'd got myself a bike again, late teens or early twenties - well, I dunno, but it would've been a different life. I would probably have been fitter, at least. And I might have enjoyed it. (Or of course I might have been flattened by a truck, but hey.)
*(ps i'm thirteen and i'm married and i want a motorbike and my wife won't let me i'm just sayin'.)
It's quicker, by bike. I'm just sayin'.
And this was the second time I have locked the bike up with my fancy locks and cables, and had to leave it out of my sight for a while; and I am of course just like a boy with a new toy, fretful and anxious and not quite able to bear myself because did I do it right? And will anyone steal my saddle? And, and, and. Always wanting to sneak up to the window to take a peek, to check; and not doing that because I'm not actually thirteen, I'm fifty-three tho' no one seems to believe it.
Actually, I have a theory that various bits of myself got stuck at various ages, and bike-riding me was clearly stuck at thirteen*. Which I think is a pity, looking back. I hated PE at school so very much that as soon as I got out I dropped any notion of exercise, apart from the walking everywhere. Even now, forty years on: Karen was trying to inveigle me into yoga, and there's just no way I will willingly walk into a gym. But I am liking the biking, and I do find myself wishing I'd done this earlier. A lot earlier, maybe. If I'd got myself a bike again, late teens or early twenties - well, I dunno, but it would've been a different life. I would probably have been fitter, at least. And I might have enjoyed it. (Or of course I might have been flattened by a truck, but hey.)
*(ps i'm thirteen and i'm married and i want a motorbike and my wife won't let me i'm just sayin'.)