“Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to cycle and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring.”
– Desmond Tutu

Friday morning, after several over-the-top hot days, Max and I enjoyed our walk in a delightful 62-degrees before I changed into my new “Tarboro Cycling” shirt, donned my helmet and met the guys on the street in front of our house for another milestone in my nascent bicycle-riding career.

This ride was slated to be my first 25-miler and the cool misty air provided perfect conditions. In fact it never got above 73 all day.

So I recorded (to date): my longest ride, my fastest 20K, my fastest 40K and my fastest “sprint”. I’m not actually sure that I’m in this to be pushing any limits, but – especially this early on – milestones are fun to note.

Regardless, I am feeling stronger every day, and that is a good thing no matter how I measure. Cycling is absolutely a positive initiative as I engage this new decade (my seventies), with proactive fitness in mind.

Beautiful countryside:

There are a lot of places we could ride, but yesterday’s route through the fields and farms on the quiet roads to the east of Tarboro was especially rewarding. It was another one of those days when I saw a lot of features I would like to photograph – especially the expansive sage fields and some of the old farm buildings – but it is pretty much impossible on a bike.

I hung in there without holding the group back too much, and we got back to Tarboro just in time for me to ride up to Walgreens for the second of my two shingles shots (another “old guy” thing!).

Worst shot ever!

I have never, ever in my life had a shot that hurt this badly. It was like they sought out the one place where every nerve in my arm had huddled together, holding hands and trying to hide, before jamming the needle in and ripping every last one of them apart at the same moment. I tried not to overreact but came really close to grabbing the needle out of the guy’s hand.

“Sir, you need to remain calm,” the Marquis de Sade said, firmly.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, trying to sound more funny than menacing. “You need to find a needle that’s smaller than a turkey baster.”

Granted, the excruciating but short-lived pain is a much better option than getting shingles. But I was glad of a downhill bike ride all the way back to our house and a chance to “wheeeee!” myself into a better frame of mind.

“Melancholy is incompatible with bicycling.”
– James E. Starrs

Have and amazing weekend, friends! I will see you in church tomorrow – DEREK