Dry morning air ripped open a gaping hole in the space-time continuum and took me back twenty or so years to a time when I roamed the Chainring holdings like a prince. I remember overgrown fencerows, fields of hay, leaning barns full of archaeological discoveries awaiting my curious mind, and overshadowed by a backdrop of green hills full of their own inviting mysteries. At least I can still roam the woods in freedom. For the most part.
Last week I felt pretty wretched. At first I thought it was allergies, but in the end it seemed like I was suffering from either a cold or a sinus infection. And maybe allergies were killing me on top of whatever I really had. Friday I felt somewhat better, and hoped for a good day of riding or running or whatever between the kids’ ballgames and getting caught up on stuff around the homestead.
Saturday morning I woke feeling worse than when I went to bed. Injury insulted when I stepped outside and felt the low humidity and mild air temperature. It would have been a perfect day for rock climbing. Or mountain biking. Or climbing Cobhill on a singlespeed. Days like that make me feel like I can do anything. Except when my head feels like a boil ready to pop.
Defiantly I chose to ride the Xtracycle to town to get a haircut before meeting Mandy and the kids at the city park for baseball. I headed up the creek for a traverse of Granny Moppet instead of trying to tackle Steamshovel Hill in my weakened state. Six in one hand; half dozen the other. But I wanted a relaxing ride and going deeper into the valley had that effect.
|Just up the road on a more humid day|
I felt fine granny-gearing over Granny Moppet. I cruised through the middle of town, popped my head in to ask if they could squeeze me in—they said in twenty minutes—so I sidestepped over to the library and killed the requisite amount of time perusing Jerrell Goodpaster’s Cave Run trails guide and a Red River Gorge rock climbing guide (for the photos).
Once I was sufficiently shorn I meandered over to the park. Along the way I realized it was kind of fun to just ride around town. That’s not something I do often. Mostly I’m passing through on my way from home to somewhere else or back from form somewhere. On a quiet Saturday morning it’s not a bad place to just cruise around.
I stayed at the game until it was painfully obvious that our boys would win 10-0 and I started home. I felt okay on the ride back, but once inside the cool refuge of the Red River Regional Bikeport my energy evaporated, and I opted for a marathon of Longmire second season episodes courtesy of Netflickers.
And daydreamed of future adventures.