|The bottle says it all...|
We got off to an early start, Neil and I, so we could take advantage of the still-shady morning and the fleeting coolness. I had a long ride planned for today, to get ready to ride with Jill and Tim next weekend, and the Ohio Gran Fondo in early September.
I like to ride solo, for a lot of reasons. I like the feeling of disappearing for a while, unreachable. And I don't necessarily like to have to hold a conversation with anyone, especially when I know I'll be out for hours and hours.
But you would never know that from the chatter going on between my ears.
I wish I could somehow turn it all off, just stay in the moment, Zen-like. I guess that's not how I'm wired, though, and so there's always something running through my head all the time.
The 4+ hour stream-of-consciousness included these neural firings:
- Can't wait to see Jill! The day I met her, we were riding past the Opera House in Death Valley when she belted out one single, perfect note. And so I asked her to sing when we were back there again this spring:
- But how in the world am I ever gonna be able to keep up with that beast Tim??
- How good is that watermelon I just bought yesterday gonna taste later? (Answer: REALLY good!
- I'm hearing voices again. Wait, it's just Jack White...now it's Lemmy...and...Ian Astbury???
- What goes good with a Founder's All Day IPA? (A big ol' heaping plate of smug satisfaction after an 80-mile ride, that's what!)
- I remember the last time I did an unsupported solo ride...it was the unforgettable road to Rhyolite...
- I wonder if I'm gonna run out of water before I get back to Bolanz...
- Who would I not mind having along with me today? What would we be talking about - or would we be talking at all?