Tuesday mornings, man. They start at 4:00AM. I got through three calls and had a one- hour break before the fourth one. The trainer was still finishing his training when I got my shorts on and suited up my sneakers with these ridiculous tick-gators pulled up over my shins. With the call done I got the bike out of the garage and leaned it against the house garage door, as the kick stand had mysteriously broken off, a few days back.
A call. Should I take it? I ought to. I’d promised to settle this and so I leaned against the car and gathered my mind to be present for what was an important conversation, I’d played out a few times with different conclusions in my mind over the past week. I took the high road.
By the time I was straddling the bike there was only thirty-five minutes till the next call. I was supposed to have intelligent things to say on this conference, rather than simply listen. There’d be no connectivity if I just tried to take the call on the trail. My ride is usually a commitment that lasts about ten minutes longer than that. I’d go to a certain point and turn around. I do it one direction or the other every day. So, I pedaled as hard as I could and I turn back wherever the mid-point was.
No surprise. You pedal a hell of a lot harder when you are pedaling against time. I damn near made it to the bridge where I usually turn around but right about where a large bluff rises us to block an old home off the trail and the ground is all covered in ferns beneath the soaring Northern Red Oaks and Sugar Maples, I checked for a last time and acknowledged I was one minute too far and looped back around home. I got back with three minutes to spare. Unpresentable visually, but it didn’t matter with the little zoom video camera blocked. My voice sounded fine and I began the session, suitably exercised, by introducing my team.
Tuesday, 07/14/20
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