This scorching heat must have toasted my brain into a half-baked mess today.
Okay, there are confounding factors. Like too little sleep and too many obligations and responsibilities that I'm literally riding away from whenever I head out west. The sheer irony being that in trying not to think about errands, hats, emails, etc, etc, etc...well, I end up thinking about them. A lot.
Although I managed to keep myself from ramming into parked cars, there was some quick swerving around potholes and roadkill, and even the need to use that squeaky front brake. And while being zoned out helped with the hills [I would be halfway up one without seeming to notice I was even climbing], I could not, for the life of me, clip in.
When done unconsciously, it takes me less than a second. But I was fumbling today, coasting and peering over my knee as I tried to engage and hear that satisfying *click*. Don't think about it, don't think about it, I thought. And then I'd think about it.
I even did that super newbie move where I thought I was clipped in only to have my pedal slip out from under my cleat and bash my shin. I also managed to scratch myself on my front brake; the icing on the cake being a bloody knee when I accidentally smashed it into a counter when I got home.
It's probably just sheer complacency. This is no NYC. These are the 'burbs of Boston, where I can stay in my drops without so much as tapping my brakes for miles. Heading out on rides sleepy and sans coffee is actually an option. Pedestrians are pretty much nonexistent, and even if Waltham is completely different from Brighton and Brookline, I know where I'm going.
And in response, my brain seems to have shut down a little. Even with wider shoulders and the confidence to do slightly shady stuff on my bike, my legs weren't tense and alert. I felt sluggish. Even a little lazy.
I suppose that's what happens when you come home.