Riding three days straight makes me remember how much I love to ride. And how too-busy-to-ride I've been.
Late on Friday afternoon, my head buried in both hands, I made plans, promises to myself really, to go in to work today. Not because I had to. I didn't. But because I needed to, or at least I felt I did. However, once today arrived, as a crisp clear morning and the first official day of Spring Break 2012, having had two days off to contemplate the massive pile of I-don't-know-what-it-is that's piled on my desk at work, I made the decision to just go ride after breakfast, and think-on-it-all, rather than go into my office and make a feeble attempt to muddle through it all once again.
It was a cop-out, a dodge I'll admit that. But a manageable one, I think, in the long run. This work I have to do right now, which I know will make no one happy, will all eventually get done, one way or another, like it or not. Has to. Today, had I gone in, I would have had a chance to, perhaps, make a little headway toward better understanding some of it. But it probably would have amounted to very little. Or nothing at all. Because I don't really understand yet what I have to do and even less about how to do it.
Or maybe I just don't want to.
So I went out and rode. Until the snow finally turned me around. Made a rock-stack. And sat in the sun.
I figured nothing out. Had no epiphanies. Did imagine myself, briefly, in a time and place where I didn't have to make unpopular decisions about complicated things. And then I got back on my bike. Resolved to ride down this hill resplendently splattered with mud, with more than a fair measure of joy in my heart, as only a day-off on your bike in the woods can bring.