School's officially starting on Monday
I use the term "starting" loosely, because I've been going to school almost every day this week. Mostly to hunch over a computer, hand poised over my mouse, cite-checking and making sure things are in correct Bluebook form. At least I'm not alone, though. A journal mate occupying the desk next to mine turned to look out the window, saying:
"Man, it's such a nice day out today too...Well, judging from the walk from my car to the school."
He turned to me when I laughed in response, adding,
"At least you bike here; you get to enjoy being outside a little."
True, but for how much longer? With the prospect of bike rides limited mostly to my pathetic commute to school, and concerns of what exactly I could write about every single day, by the end of the day, I was feeling as crumpled as the drain that I park in front of. And while the rollers are keeping my thighs on the firmer side of flabby, winter always seems to turn me into a mushy, stiff mess.
But climbing that hill on Comm Ave, and slowing to a crawl on my new-ish gearing, I almost laughed. A year and half ago, I was walking up this thing, with gearing that was significantly spinny-er. And I just rode down this same street no-handed. Something I couldn't do even two months ago.
Hopeful that the sun bathing the backs of my calves will somehow even out my ridiculous tan, I ran some errands around town in the last hours of daylight. And my bike luck turning, I ran into Boston's Cutest Messenger, riding, as usual, on the insane side of dangerous: clipless, brakeless, and helmetless.
Trying to keep my inner cougar from pouncing on him [he's 19.
sigh. SIGH.], we rode for a few blocks together, me just a little ahead of him. And turning my head when he called out goodbye, I heard a bro-dude shout:
"You can beat him!"
Actually, I couldn't even if I tried. I was also furiously winded after trying to actually stay ahead of Boston's Cutest. The planned attack on the following hills were done with half-hearted enthusiasm between slightly uncomfortable gulps of air. Man, I'm slow and weak.
School's only going to make all this worse. But surprisingly, I think I'm okay with that. At least for [right] now.
I'm a busy girl. And perfection's tough, you know?
[And yes, it is Rapha Scarf Friday...]