More Like Fielding Mellish

It’s hot out there.  Not that I’d know from experience.  I’m grinding, I think that’s an accurate verb, grinding away at an impossible list of things that must happen before we all leave for the summer.  I have no time for a healthy side bar like the gym.  But sitting here, executing, is wearing me out.  My wife returns home and announces it is extremely hot outside.  Somehow this makes me want to head to the gym, even more.

The ride to the gym takes about fifteen minutes if you pedal over on your bike.  Add that to the ride home and you can easily talk yourself into forgoing the cardio routine at the gym and instead, dive straight into some work on the upper body.  At six in the morning time is too tight for any such bike ride.  But now, when the gym’s open all day for kids or adults, this is where I’m heading. 

I love the ride over.  Music and music and music riding out of doors.  Somewhere around the ‘four corners of certain destruction’ crossroads up ahead which badly needs a traffic light, Iggy’s “Search and Destroy” comes on and soon I’m peddling like a really need to get somewhere.  “Love in the middle of a fire fight” is about right. Pedal harder to get to the turn.  I step down as hard as I can and soon note how hard it is to breath.  It’s hazy day.  I’m winded though some of it is cat related the Beijing air is catching up with me.  

The music doesn’t stop when I get there.  It’s a random loop of 5000 songs that never ends. But some Mc5 has appropriately enough followed up on Iggy’s face slap and now I’m strutting across the kid’s campus to “Rambling Rose” imagining Wayne Kramer singing the ditty with his guitar tossed back as he croons.  Then I see the wife of a friend and modulate my strut from full Redd Foxx to something more like Fielding Mellish.  “Hey.  Yeah.  I already got the cardio done, riding over here.”  “Cool.” 

Tuesday, 06/20/17