ve-ry-super-stitious

I had three good bike days in a row but was scared to write it down for fear the scent of something celebratory might, per usual, attract the unwanted attention of whatever little demons control my musculoskeletal system (shut up, Science; don’t tell me how to feel). But they found me anyway, so I guess now I might as well post whatever grainy iPhone photos I want.

Mt. Tam road-dirt, 8/24

I haven’t been up to East Peak since the first summer I had my bike (ponytail throwback, 2007). I thought the long absence might make for novelty enough, but by the time I got across the bridge the idea of the slog up the pavement was already so unappealing that I bailed onto Railroad Grade, where I had a totally lovely time and cut the shit out of a pair of new tires. Whatever. Worth it, as always, to look down on that town.

Ferry home. Weak, I know, but like this kid I do love to watch the wake.

Annadel MTB, 8/25

There’s excitement in novelty and then there’s the thrill of the familiar—a real thing, actually, because of what it takes to round a corner at a speed incompatible with correction for the unexpected. I’d missed going fast, but I’d also missed the company of like-minded folk who’d rather leave it out of all the uphill portions. Do you have a mountain bike? Do you like to putter up climbs and stop frequently for picnics? I Want to Hear From You!

Buick Meadow. I’d really like to know why it’s called that—anybody?

Berkeley CX, 8/26

An attempt at an efficient after-work ride ended at the bottom of the Smackdown with the realization that I was already too hungry, followed by 20 minutes spent actually foraging for blackberries (sparse and still sour, if you were wondering). But the delay meant I caught the sunset, watched the bay fill up with fog and light and Mt. Diablo gather itself into a silhouette against the evening.

All’s well that ends well.

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