| | It is Friday night, and I am nursing my sore, bruised body back to health. The Homegrown is now sharing the closet with my clothes, and I have been slowly re-learning trials, which my body has pleasantly forgotten. My callused palms are the primary indication of the strains my body undergoes each night, while microscopic tears rend my upper body useless. My legs, strong from the road, have been subject to numerous "love taps" to the pedals, concrete ledges, etc.
Even as an avid cyclist, I find it ridiculous that a bicycle can generate joy from self-inflicted injuries. While the injuries occur, memories of my casual afterschool rides around the park, popping brief wheelies and jumping off curbs, flood my mind, rendering the pain into a soggy pulp that floats about. Nostalgia aside, trials is a physical exercise in creativity, and after I look at that ledge, formulating the possible attacks I can unleash, I attempt to implement my schemes. Upon success, I think of the next variation.
I give up on this post. I'm going to go ride
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| | Posted 11/30/2007 10:53 PM
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