I lost my will to work this morning when I lost my large hot chocolate to the floor of my car.
I just feel whiny and there's no way around that. Here I am, at work on a Saturday morning. Its not that it isn't my fault that I'm here. I certainly didn't do any work the last two days, but damn if I'm not tired regardless. And then to lose the best part of my day? And not have any cash to buy a second?
At least the hot chocolate came off of my leather shoes, but I've already made an appointment to have it detailed to avoid a spoiled dairy smell in my car.
Now that I have successfully avoided working for an hour and yet somehow have only written the equivalent of an entire paragraph, I should probably get my bitter self to work...
... or at least find something else that doesn't feel quite as much like procrastination.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A Lovely Day to Ride
Walking out the front door of the complex the crisp air hinted of summer. Blue skies bordered the tree line and the tops of the buildings. Sunshine competed with the shadows for every inch of space on the ground. It felt like a wonderful day to ride my bike to work. Alex had helped me put my new drink rack on my bike as well as check the air pressure in my tires. I donned my helmet and sunglasses and rolled up my jeans to mid-calf to keep them from getting in my chain ring. My backpack was filled with the necessities of lesson planning and exam writing along with an orange and some cereal. I was ready.
Down the concrete path to the street, I wheeled my bike beside me. The nice thing about my bike is that it never feels like he resents me for the months of neglect. I am fairly positive that he understands that he would much rather be indoors for those months than not.
I start out riding north. After five blocks the first small hill arises and I look down at my shift levers. I'm almost in my lowest gear already; this is not a good sign. I am now painfully aware of the strain of the backpack straps on my shoulders and I consider turning around right then and there. I am, however, my father's daughter. "Quitting" was never advocated in my household. I'm no quitter.
Ten blocks later, as I stopped at a light, I sincerely regretted this trait because I sure as hell wasn't riding back over those hills just to get my car.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally hit the street where I turned west for about 15 blocks. This portion is predominantly down hill, and if my back hadn't been aching from the overstuffed bag being held by it, I would have been relieved. I suppose the short breaks of sitting up were of some minor benefit.
Turning north again, this stretch is a slight, yet steady, incline for the next few miles and my legs already felt like jello. I left my gears in their position (second to lowest), however, so that I had something to fall back on when I hit harder portions. At the first red light, I didn't shift down. That was a mistake. At the second, I shifted, but neglected to take a moment to get a drink of water. At the third, I was already so tired that shifting and taking a drink hardly felt like they made any difference. When I got to the green light at Alberta, I audibly muttered "Oh thank God." Not only was this a green light, but Alberta marks the final (downhill) stretch to PCC.
I have a feeling that when I leave today, I will be leaving behind a significant portion of my belongings to claim with my car later.
We do know now, though, that my new jeans are going to be good for biking in. I do believe I am going to have to go buy a couple more pairs.
Down the concrete path to the street, I wheeled my bike beside me. The nice thing about my bike is that it never feels like he resents me for the months of neglect. I am fairly positive that he understands that he would much rather be indoors for those months than not.
I start out riding north. After five blocks the first small hill arises and I look down at my shift levers. I'm almost in my lowest gear already; this is not a good sign. I am now painfully aware of the strain of the backpack straps on my shoulders and I consider turning around right then and there. I am, however, my father's daughter. "Quitting" was never advocated in my household. I'm no quitter.
Ten blocks later, as I stopped at a light, I sincerely regretted this trait because I sure as hell wasn't riding back over those hills just to get my car.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally hit the street where I turned west for about 15 blocks. This portion is predominantly down hill, and if my back hadn't been aching from the overstuffed bag being held by it, I would have been relieved. I suppose the short breaks of sitting up were of some minor benefit.
Turning north again, this stretch is a slight, yet steady, incline for the next few miles and my legs already felt like jello. I left my gears in their position (second to lowest), however, so that I had something to fall back on when I hit harder portions. At the first red light, I didn't shift down. That was a mistake. At the second, I shifted, but neglected to take a moment to get a drink of water. At the third, I was already so tired that shifting and taking a drink hardly felt like they made any difference. When I got to the green light at Alberta, I audibly muttered "Oh thank God." Not only was this a green light, but Alberta marks the final (downhill) stretch to PCC.
I have a feeling that when I leave today, I will be leaving behind a significant portion of my belongings to claim with my car later.
We do know now, though, that my new jeans are going to be good for biking in. I do believe I am going to have to go buy a couple more pairs.
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