Getting on the roadie today with friends took the thoughts of fatness and slug like existence away I seem to get my brain wrapped all up in when I can’t get out and torture myself.
Like the white bar tape that get’s wrapped on your roadie come spring, the first couple of long rides are painfully sweet. Enough torture to remind yourself you’re alive. Vitamin D does wonders.
And so I will stay true to keeping myself rolling. When the shit comes down I will look at may anchor in the fall, cross, to pull me forward. Each ride a building block. Psychologically at a minimum, that I am not dead. Only moving forward.