CULT OF JAMES

Morning ride, Camila Cabello morning. Seven tracks, twelve minutes, 2.6 miles. The entire vibe shifted from Ghost’s darkness to pop in the July sun. Sometimes the shuffle knows something you don’t. Havana playing while pedaling through a Florida neighborhood is either perfect thematic alignment or cosmic comedy. Either way, the legs didn’t care what the ears were hearing. They just…

Strava says 0.85 miles in 4 minutes. The data’s glitched — GPS probably grabbed a chunk of the bike ride that happened at the same time. These things overlap sometimes when you’re switching between activities at 4 AM and your phone is doing its best. “Cirice” was still playing. Same Ghost, same darkness, same July morning that hasn’t decided to…

Same morning as the bike ride. 4:49 AM, not even a mile. GPS says 4:43 pace which is absolutely wrong — this was a walk, probably just the leg from wherever I parked the bike back to the door. Strava does this sometimes. Records a fragment, calls it a run, gives you an impossible pace. “Cirice” was still playing. Same…

Another pre-dawn ride. 3:47 AM, same route, same distance, two days later. The consistency of it — not impressive consistency, just the stubborn kind where you keep doing a small thing because stopping feels worse than continuing. Ghost on the speakers this time. “Cirice” opened with that riff that sounds like a cathedral collapsing in slow motion, and “Jigolo Har…

Another pre-dawn ride. 4:47 AM, two and a half miles, Ghost on the speakers. “Cirice” into “Jigolo Har Megiddo” — that’s a specific kind of darkness to pedal through at almost 5 in the morning. Same route as Tuesday probably. Same distance, same elevation, same twelve minutes. The consistency of someone who has exactly one loop they ride and they…

Morning ride. Ghost again. Five tracks, twelve minutes, the same 2.6-mile loop that the legs know by muscle memory now. July 12th, two days after the last one, same route, same band, same heat. Consistency isn’t exciting. It’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be there when the exciting stuff isn’t. STATS 🚴 Ride — Morning ride 📏 2.60…

3:33 AM. Two and a half miles on the bike. David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” playing in the dark. There’s a specific kind of quiet that exists at that hour in Pensacola — no traffic, no voices, just the chain clicking and the humid air sitting on your skin like a second shirt. A-ha’s “Take on Me” came on next and…

3:33 AM bike ride. Two and a half miles. “Space Oddity” playing as I rolled out into the dark. There’s a version of Pensacola that only exists between 3 and 5 AM — empty intersections, the streetlights doing that sodium-orange thing, and you’re the only moving object for blocks. Bowie into a-ha into Eddie Money. The playlist had “Take Me…

Morning ride with the strangest playlist of the summer. David Bowie, a-ha, Eddie Money. The shuffle reached back to the ’80s like it knew something about the rider the algorithm shouldn’t. 2.6 miles, thirteen minutes. Take On Me playing while taking on the same loop. Under Pressure while the Florida morning pressed down. Baby Hold On while holding on to…

Same ride, same Circle K, same Gatorade. Strava double-logged this one — GPS hiccup or maybe I hit record twice. Either way, the ride happened. 5.53 miles in the Pensacola midday heat for a cold drink from a gas station. Still had the Metal Gear V playlist going. “Gloria” kicked things off, “The Man Who Sold the World” carried the…