Seven kilometres out of town I dropped my water bottle. I slowed to a stop, then dropped myself (damn cleated pedals).
Realizing I posed the greatest threat to my own personal safety, I turned around and went home.
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| It's only a flesh-wound. |
“he”/“him” A Canadian Prairie Mennonite from the '70s & '80s, a Preacher’s Kid, slowly recovering from a hemorrhagic stroke. I am not — yet — in a 12-Step Program.
Saturday, July 02, 2016
Spinning My Wheels
Tuesday morning. I checked the clock and figured I had enough time to squeeze in a quick bike ride.
Seven kilometres out of town I dropped my water bottle. I slowed to a stop, then dropped myself (damn cleated pedals).
Realizing I posed the greatest threat to my own personal safety, I turned around and went home.
I cleaned myself up, put on the suit, got in the car and drove down to my younger daughter's high school commencement. The emotional churn would have to be expressed some other day, some other way.
Seven kilometres out of town I dropped my water bottle. I slowed to a stop, then dropped myself (damn cleated pedals).
Realizing I posed the greatest threat to my own personal safety, I turned around and went home.
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