CULT OF JAMES

Three-quarters of a mile. Five minutes. No name for this one — just a date stamped on it like a receipt. August in Louisville. The kind of hot where the asphalt shimmers and you question every decision that led you outside. But something made me get on the bike that evening, even if it was barely long enough to break…

Fifty minutes after the last ride. Back on the bike. Eight tenths of a mile in five minutes — the shortest loop yet. Definitely forgot something. That’s the honest version of “Evening Ride.” It sounds nice until you realize it’s just a round trip to wherever sells what you needed at 8:30 on a Saturday night. The legs were already…

Saturday evening, quarter to eight. Bike ride number one of two — because apparently whatever I went out for the first time wasn’t enough, or I forgot something, or the evening was nice enough to justify a second trip. A mile and a third through the neighborhood. Ten minutes. The kind of pace where you’re pedaling but you’re not in…

Mile and a third on the bike in the early afternoon. Nine minutes. The kind of ride that has a destination and the destination is probably a gas station or a convenience store. Louisville in August, one in the afternoon — the sun is doing its absolute worst and you’re on a bike because the car seemed like too much…

Back-to-back evening shifts. Got up from the desk around 8:20 and walked the mile loop again. Slightly faster than last night — eighteen minutes instead of twenty-one — which probably means nothing except I had less on my mind. Or maybe more on my mind and I was walking through it faster. Hard to tell. The NOC does that to…

Nine PM and the NOC was quiet — the dangerous kind of quiet where you start trusting it. I took the longer loop this time. Past the building, through the little park with the busted water fountain, all the way around and back. A mile and change. August in Louisville doesn’t cool down at night. It just gets darker and…