season is slowly braking to a close.
least, evening bike-riding is braking to a close.
David and I will still be able to go for those occasional long, groovy
rides on Saturdays and Sundays, depending on variables like
weather, family obligations, hormonal peaks and valleys.
Holidays and vacations and *hooky days* will probably be prime winter
bike-riding time, too. But neither one of us has the equipment, or the
eyesight -- or the desire, frankly -- to ride at night. After we've
set our clocks back next weekend, "night" will have already begun
before we've even made it home from the office. So our days of heading
over to the abandoned Navy Base for a quick five-miler before dinner
will soon be nothing more than a fond memory.
like Temporary Voluntary Unemployment. Or "Pasadena.")
changing seasons are partially to blame. I felt it in the air this
morning, as we were riding around Bay Farm Island: the unmistakeable
bite of Bay Area autumn in the air. Usually I ride in a short-sleeved
T-shirt and my little stretchy riding pants (yep: I finally made it
into Spandex), but this morning I actually had to drag the fuzzy
sweatshirt/pullover from the back of the closet and toss that on over
my T-shirt. And even then I was still cold,
especially as we chugged through the mist and the wind along the beach
side of Alameda. (And since Alameda is an island, every
side is "the beach side," essentially.)
just me, or is this especially miserable?" I whined, swiping at my
runny nose with one sleeve of the fuzzy sweatshirt/pullover. The trail
ahead of us was virtually deserted.
isn't just you," David replied tersely.
in the morning, after we'd made it all the way around Bay Farm Island
and were sufficiently warmed-up -- I ended up tying
sweatshirt/pullover around my waist -- the ride
morphed from misery
into pleasure finally. On a whim, we decided to ride home through the
residential area of Alameda, thereby avoiding another chilly beach
ride. In companionable silence, we pedalled past row after row of
stately Victorian homes decked out in jack o'lanterns and American
flags, down streets littered with maple leaves and palm fronds. At
one point I caught a whiff of woodsmoke, and felt an instantaneous pang
of homesickness for TicTac.
turned out to be one of the loveliest
rides we've ever taken.
changing of the seasons isn't the only thing that's going to shortly
put a dent in our riding routine. My new job is going to have a HUGE
impact on our time/our schedules/our waistlines. Riding will only be
part of it. I expect that the new job -- especially the new, expanded
commute -- is going to forcibly rearrange the way we do a lot of
sort of worried about that.
(Although "worried" might be too strong a word to describe how I feel
about this. I want to save "worried" for things that really matter ...
like Daughter #2, or bioterrorism, or the nice lady on David's message
board who has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer.)
say instead that I'm fretting, ever-so-slightly.
about where and how we're going to fit certain critical things into the
schedule, once I start the new job. I'm fretting
about staying in touch with friends and family. I'm fretting
about having enough Alone Time. I'm fretting about
finding the space and the energy to write, and about how I'm going
to keep *FootNotes* current. (I've completely abandoned NaNoWriMo
for this year: simply keeping up with e-mail is going to be
challenging enough.) I'm fretting about asking a
brand-new boss for extra time off at Christmas so I can go to TicTac.
I'm fretting about how we'll keep up with the
domestic stuff: the housecleaning, the laundry, the grocery shopping.
I'm fretting about how (and when) we're going to be
able to squeeze exercise into the schedule.
expect we'll get it sorted out.
damn well BETTER sort it out: I've already
given away all of my *fat clothes* ... and I'm at least four weeks away
from that first paycheck.)