riding riding riding

Still trying to build up a surplus of bike miles to carry me through the next few weeks away. I have the feeling, though, that all this riding is only going to make things worse. It feels good for now, anyway. I think I’ve ridden more this week than I ever have before - at least since I’ve been keeping track of mileage over the last couple years. Whenever I’m consciously making an effort to make it to a certain weekly mileage I’m reminded that the numbers are pretty irrelevant. Much more significant in my memory of the week are the other riders (and runners) and bikes, and the heat and the raindrops and the high clouds, and the patches of sand at the side of the road, and one unusual corkscrewed Yucca flower stalk on Brown, and grease-fingers, and horse flies on Brown, and the crinkly sound that rotten asphalt makes as you ride over it, and blinding sweat in my eyes, and white buckwheat flowers slowly rusting across the foothills, and the slow power-crawl up that last stretch of climb and the transition into smooth fast downhill speed flight, and the spinning spinning spinning whir of the drivetrain…