Joy.

Training for the Tour De France

I was with Earnest earlier, walking home from the dog park when we passed by a group of 3 or 4 kids riding their bikes around a playground area. They were small, maybe 5 or 6, and they were going full speed, ringing bells and screaming to each other in those shrill screaming voices that are only un-obnoxious because they are coming from little people.

We were past the group of them when one of them pedaled hard and went onto the grass, full speed, totally mowing down the pitiful grass. The little boy looked so gleeful. Do you remember doing that? When you’d pedal really fast and then ride on the grass and you thought you were really cool because riding on the grass was bumpy as shit and you thought you were “mountain biking?”

I do. I also remember pedaling full speed into puddles and then lifting my legs out to the side so as not to get my legs covered in dirty water. I may or may not have done this recently while riding bikes in Anchorage and it brought me intense joy. Like cheeks burning smiling joy. AND I LIKED IT.

[that’s a photo of me on a tricycle circa 1988]

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