July 31st. Twenty-three minutes on the bike going essentially nowhere. A tenth of a mile. Trainer, probably, or just sitting on the thing in the garage trying to convince myself it counted. Heart rate barely broke 110. The kind of session where your body is present but your brain is somewhere else entirely. End of July in Pensacola — the…
Continue transmissionJuly 2019
Strava logged this as a ride. 0.17 miles in 23 minutes. That’s not a ride. That’s sitting on a bike in one place, or maybe rolling it to the end of the driveway and back while doing something else entirely. The data says what it says: barely moved, heart rate hovering around 107, the kind of numbers that mean “alive…
Continue transmissionThe carburetor on the mower was gummed up again. Needed carb cleaner. The auto parts store is two and a half miles away. Could have driven. Grabbed the bike instead. Two-forty-eight miles round trip in the July morning before Pensacola turned into a convection oven. Seventeen minutes of pedaling through humidity you could chew. Got the cleaner, stuffed it in…
Continue transmissionThe mower was acting up — sputtering, flooding, refusing to stay running. Needed carb cleaner. Could’ve driven. Got on the bike instead. Two and a half miles round trip to the auto parts store, July in Pensacola, which means the air is soup and your shirt is a liability by the time you’re halfway there. Seventeen minutes of pedaling through…
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