A coworker invited me to join her last night for a group bike ride. And since I'm a sucker for organized physical activity because I am too lazy to do it on my own, I said HELL YES. Since moving into my corner of the city, I've sort of become a hermit in the bubble of my neighborhood. I walk everywhere. I ride my bike. I run. I REFUSE to leave. Venturing onto the freeway and into the suburbs is bad for the environment and my sanity. Road rage and rush hour is a killer combination.
But the ride, of course, was through suburbia. I had to strap my bike to the rack and battle rush hour on I-94.
(DO NOT WANT!)
I felt guilty DRIVING my bike somewhere to ride. Sort of like driving myself to a running destination. It feels oxymoronic. A word? Don't know. Is now.
But alas, I had no choice. And it took forever to drive the probably 11 miles in bumper to bumper freeway rush hour traffic. I wanted to pull out my fingernails and throw them at the jerk ahead of me who WOULD NOT MOVE OUT OF MY WAY.
Can you not see that I have a bike, and I am on a mission, and you are in my way, and WHY doesn't rush hour revolve around me!?
Cough. I feel better now, thanks.
Anyhow, I made it. We rode 20 miles, and I met some friendly riders. I plan to return. Next time, however, I WILL find a way to get there via bicycle, if it kills me. I refuse to drive.
And because I felt guilty for my drive to suburbia, I rode my bike to work this morning. I feel this way Mother Nature will forgive me and not open the doors of Hell with a wicked thunderstorm at quitting time.
Thanks in advance.