Not wanting to sabotage my exercising any further, I made myself go out for a ride last night. Despite the Chief’s warnings that it would be dark by the time I got back, I suited up and headed out, comfortable in our bike lights’ ability to get me home.
The trail was nice and cool last night. The insect sounds filling the air at dusk reminded me that winter is on its way (and speaking of, it may be time for a snow blower – screw that shoveling crap – any suggestions are welcome). There weren’t many people on the trail, so I was able to zip through the miles at a good clip. I made it to Bellevue and began the trip home with the sun descending fast over the surrounding farmland and prairie. Halfway back, I switched on my lights and rode in quietly back to the car.
This all sounds great, right? Peaceful. Tranquil. Me and the bike, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes?
I was covered in bug shit.
Bugs in my eyes. Bugs in my hair. Bugs in my mouth. Bugs on my face, zooming up to meet me and then getting trapped in a sweat bead and struggling hard to escape before the toxic salt water killed them. I had bugs all over me – those little gnatty bastards.
I stopped at the corner store on the way home and picked up a six pack. I still had to finish for tomorrow’s Quick Step update, and one of the panels was going to take me most of the night. A man in bike shorts covered in bugs and demanding beer… well, I wish I could have seen it for myself. I think some kids laughed at me. Laugh, you little bastards. Soon you’ll be trapped in a job with no soul and three cube walls, looking at how rapidly your bellybutton is rising up to meet your face from all those cookies you eat in the afternoon from the vending machine.
I usually get my cookies between 3 and 4, so I’ll see you then, okay?
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