With temperatures rising into the 50s today, I cursed my stupid back. And my dermatologist. I drove to the doctor’s office to have the suture that was used to close the biopsy removed. No need. It had fallen out. So I asked about my biopsy. It was negative. I suppose finding out you don’t have skin cancer is worth passing up a bike commute in 50 degree weather, even if my back wasn’t up to it.
Driving around Alexandria and Arlington is truly insane. I was in the car for well over an hour to go less than 20 miles. I must say that I-395 is one impressive parking lot. Hey America, aren’t you glad you’re throwing billions down the interstate highway hole every year? What a great idea! Not exactly the wonderful idyllic driving experience that the car companies’ television commercials depict, is it?
I drove home at 4 with one thing on my mind: ride my damned bike. It was 62 degrees out and The Mule was kicking to get out of the shed. So I went for a ride. My first on-the-road ride in over two weeks.
I didn’t set the world on fire, but I made it through 13 miles of neighborhood streets. My back didn’t mind the ride at all. I was expecting bumps to hurt but The Mule ate them up. Getting off the bike was a little iffy. And painful. I had to walk the bike to the shed. I felt like an old man with a walker.
About an hour later, I got up from eating dinner and I felt pretty much the same as I did last night. Stiff and bent over. Until it my back gradually loosened. It’s possible that I will be a wreck in the morning.
So you know what I did.
I packed for my first bike commute in nearly three weeks.
Knock wood. Cross fingers. Throw some salt over my shoulder.