Click images for desktop size: "Captain America" by Vic The heat nearly overwhelmed me today. The heat, the humidity, left me soaked with sweat from just standing.
Still sore from the over indulgent bike riding. Old rules of thumb apply here: Two days and its just the muscles learning 3 days and its an injury.
I took the bike out today to run to the store. A trip that took me nearly 2 hours walking took less than 45 minutes. I felt exhilarated accomplishing this small thing.
The pain was always there but not debilitating at all.
Tomorrow is my normal day off. I have one job interview/fill out an application things. I plan to take my bike.
The buses here all have front mounted bike racks. My eBike weighs about 65 pounds (30 kilos). I spent a part of today practicing hoisting the bike so the wheels were four feet off the ground, high enough to fit on the bus's bike rack.
If I can make this happen I can still get around and get myself into shape for the 15 mile treks.

I thought today about some people. I've known a lot of people who, it felt to me, needed to bring themselves as close to death as possible to remind themselves they're alive.
Some people thought I was like that with the extreme sports thing. No. I used to be an adrenaline junkie for sure.
I'm talking about the guys who gamble and are always betting more than they can ever afford to lose.
They'll tell you its because they want to win but when they do they throw it all back.
I've known cool people who became junkies. They did it to see how far it was for them to hit bottom, but they lost their way there and maybe bottom was a lot farther away than you can imagine when all you've got is a lizard brain.
I've known people who've ignored the sunshine and wrapped themselves in side a silicon cocoon, ignoring the world and spent most of their brain power wondering why the person of their dream didn't jump naked through their window on a cold lonely night.
I've watched people with every reason to be at least content, contort themselves and distort the world around them so that they could remain separate and filled with hate. A hate so profound that their vision of love is only a diluted hate.
The minor league umpire strike is over. You know I won't cross a picket line.
I love thinking about baseball, all the numbers to mull over, all the stats to calculate and figure on every pitch. The way the plays replay themselves in your head reenforcing the beauty and miracle of muscles, eyes and hands combining to do an impractical wonderful thing.
As much as I miss playing this game I can't avoid it forever. Its like trying to ignore your first love when they walk by you on the beach.
Yeah, exactly like that.

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