Saturday late afternoon; golden light spinning down onto the suburbs of Denver, kids happily playing outside the window. Air carrying that clear haziness of fall, temperature in the 70s. In short, a perfect biking day...
...and I'm feeling OK about myself because I did a good hard upper body workout before noon at the athletic club.
But... that was then; this is now. And I'm feeling like a slug, sitting there on the couch, my knee propped up. I'm reading a couple of books, one about biking and training of course, and the other the latest in the Dune follow-up series. Fine.
But soon I'm feeling restless; should go start a project of one sort or another. Jeez, what a loser... sittin' here on a day like this.
Only one answer; sorry, knee... but we're at least going to go down to the trainer and spin a bit.
Oh, yeah, "Spin."
Sweat a little bit. Get in touch with what's real; feed our motion addiction. Get the butt back on the bike, even if it's just tethered to the trainer instead of cruising up Deer Creek Canyon.
Hey, it beats ice cream, or a cup of coffee or whatever.
"So that's where we're headed; Mr. Knee; you and me, our sinews and joints, muscles and fat, brain and soul, the whole enchilada.
Everybody else; catch ya later.
We'll all feel better then.