By car, I live about 20 miles from work. Via bike, it shouldn’t be more than 25 or 27. I woke up this morning thinking about my neglected bianchi. It had been days since I’ve done any intense physical activity, and my body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it needed some. Badly.
I finally found my road shoes while unpacking this weekend, and so decided it was about time I started riding to work. I had ridden home once before – but after an unplanned rugby game on the way home, and the subsequent hanging out – it was dark, late and not much fun. I also discovered that the Dougherty Ferry bridge across 270 is gone. But I digress.
Today I gave myself an hour and a half to get to work. Plenty of time. I don’t have internet at my house (um, or a map) so couldn’t double check my route, but I assumed I would figure it out.
The city is very different than the county. I keep realizing this in different ways the more time I spend in Ballwin. In the city, if I have a cardinal direction, I can get anywhere. The layout of streets makes sense to me. The county is a curvy, windy mess.
So, long story short, I went the wrong way. When the road I thought was clayton dead-ended into a highway and I realized the sun was not in my eyes but rather over my right shoulder, I sheepishly called a friend. She gave me directions and offered a ride, but I was determined to get myself out of this mess. She showed up anyway -- found me sweaty and peddling down Clayton road near Ballas. At least I was heading east. Setting my pride aside for a moment, my quads were happy to see her. Thanks, Michele.
I get to try again as I bike home tonight. Perhaps this time I will look at a map first. I'm frustrated about being late to work, but my body is loving this. Last year I had done close to 5,000 miles on my bike by August, this year I am not even at 1,000. It's good to be back on two wheels.
1 comment:
Obviously you've been drinking.
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