Date: Sept. 11
September mileage: 274.5
Temperature upon departure: 65
You know what may just be the easiest workout in the world? Anything when it's 65 degrees and sunny.
When there are days on end of solid rain, I never seem to notice the way they add up. The grayness slowly creeps into my head, settles in my lungs and sloshes around in my limbs. Before long, I'm so weighted down in weather that I can scarcely turn pedals without teetering on the edge of unconsciousness; every frustrating attempt at effort only makes me go slower. It occurred to me yesterday that I should probably just give up on this whole fitness dream, as I was obviously becoming more and more of a slug by the mile.
Then the sun comes out, and it's like someone has tipped over the heavy bucket on my back. I can almost feel the weight draining out as I spin into the bright, mundane morning, lungs and limbs renewed. It's not often that my flat-barred, platform-pedalled, fender-adorned, waterbottle-cages-hanging-off-the-fork road bike sees 20 mph on the flat highway. It's even less often that the unlikely pace continues for 15 miles.
If I ever moved to Southern California, I would probably become such a skinny-tire road geek; it feels so amazing to believe I'm moving fast.
But for now I will live in Southeast Alaska; I will count the sunny fall days on one hand, and I will dream of the season when I can finally set out on sluggish slogs through an endless expanse of snow.