dynamic elf

I smell like tri-flow and rain.

Last night, I replaced the chain on my yellow bike and lubed the parts that needed lubing. During the year and a half I'd left it sitting there -- I only rode the Softride last summer -- the chain had rusted solid. So solid, in fact, that I had to break it in *two* places to get it out of the rear derailleur. I was a little worried that my minimalist tune-up would make for an unhappy bike this morning, but apparently not; the tri-flow had worked its way into all of the parts that needed greasing, and the bike obediently sprang into action as soon as I got on.

I'm not sure why I ever think I could get rid of my yellow bike. I'm clearly wrong.

After 100 miles piloting the tandem last week, I felt so light and agile riding a single bike that I actually laughed. The wheels are so close together! I felt like I should jump up curbs in celebration, but I had to get to work. I was even a little sad that they'd repaved some of the crappier sections of road, since it meant I had less opportunity to skim and skip the bike over bad pavement and around potholes.

50 and drizzly. I practically had the path to myself. I saw two joggers, two bikers, and three dogwalkers in eleven miles. I don't mind riding in the rain, as long as it's warm, and the rain isn't too hard. 50 degrees counts as warm. Similarly, I don't mind riding in the cold, as long as I have enough to bundle up in. Today, I opted for a tank, a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt, full-finger gloves, light tights, and a windbreaker. It was a bit much. Is my sense of what to wear in what sorts of weather now off, or am I just more insulated than I used to be? I'm not sure. My temperature sensors are still off. I'm still never entirely sure whether I'm hot or cold. Pregnancy is weird, that way, and even ex-pregnancy is a little destabilizing.

I love the feeling of coming in to the office wet and chilly and slightly jazzed, wheeling my bike in to the elevators, and then parking it in my cube while I strip out of my bike clothes and put on dry warm clothes. It makes me feel lucky to live in civilization.

I've ridden this route hundreds of times before. I saw the same things I always see: joggers, leaves, footpaths I've never been on, a few sonik signs, maybe some geese. There was nothing new. There was nothing spectacular about this ride, aside from the fact that I did it and felt fantastic. So here I am, wearing warm dry things and biding my time in the office until I can get back on the bike and ride back home through the rain.