All y'all who had "six weeks, tops" in the How Long Will This Last pool, don't spend those winnings yet.
Every weekend I have the same epiphany: when I ride my bike, I'm a different - and far happier - person. Just wheeling it out of the garage to pump up the tires gives me hope. A five minute spin around the block puts a smile on my face. A sunny, invigorating winter's afternoon around town? Euphoria. (The After-Christmas South Austin Hot Beverage Tour has the makings of a new tradition.) A simple dinner (tonight: apple and cheese crostini) is a feast, and I sleep the untroubled sleep of the innocent.
And by Monday afternoon, those memories have slipped away.
Fortunately, events have conspired to bring a break in this pattern within reach. Tomorrow's workday starts an hour later than usual; the weather, while cold, will be dry (so they say); and traffic may still be light.
Tomorrow I shall ride to work.
I haven't done so since June (a different job, a different home), when I had the #3 bus line as backup. From here, the end of the bus line is only one-third of the way to work. The rest is on narrow country roads, and at that hour it will still be dark. But I have blinking lights and a lime-green safety vest, along with long underwear and wool gloves.
Wish me luck.
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