Bicycle!
Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!
Remember when you were ten, and you woke up on Christmas morning, and there was a bicycle under the tree?
"Bicycle!" You said. "Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiicycle!"
That's still how I feel today. I went out today and rode my new bike on the trails at Golden Gate Park. I flew through them. Most I know from running. But I've never gone so fast on them before. And I felt like I was fucking good. I was moving, going fast, uphill. I bounced down hills with wooden steps set into them, and across rocks the size of railroad ties. I went head-over-the-handlebars, once, v e r y s l o w l y. I was riding what amounted to single track along a steep hillside along Fulton, heading towards the back side of the Conservatory, when I hit a fallen log hidden in deep grass and (then) over I went like the minute hand of a clock. It was mystifying to me, how I kept moving like that.
11Flip1
I'm already envisioning myself in Xterras. Flying.
