Riding on the bridge reminds me of biking in the Midwest--whether along Lake Michigan or riding through corn fields--where there is stiff headwind riding in one direction and glorious tailwind in the other. When I was heading east, I put my bike in the granny gear and pedaled along getting steadily passed by packs of men in matching lyrca outfits all with the body fat percentage of a cricket. On the way back home heading west, the tailwind was my friend.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
My New Favorite Bike Ride
When I first moved to Seattle, I was stunned at how beautiful the view was on the 520 bridge across Lake Washington. A few weeks ago, a new bike and pedestrian lane along 520 just opened and it is amazing. Riding a bike is better than driving because there is more time to take in the scenery and there is less need to make sure I don't get in a crash. There are also little coves where people can rest and enjoy the water, mountains and cloud scapes.
Riding on the bridge reminds me of biking in the Midwest--whether along Lake Michigan or riding through corn fields--where there is stiff headwind riding in one direction and glorious tailwind in the other. When I was heading east, I put my bike in the granny gear and pedaled along getting steadily passed by packs of men in matching lyrca outfits all with the body fat percentage of a cricket. On the way back home heading west, the tailwind was my friend.
Riding on the bridge reminds me of biking in the Midwest--whether along Lake Michigan or riding through corn fields--where there is stiff headwind riding in one direction and glorious tailwind in the other. When I was heading east, I put my bike in the granny gear and pedaled along getting steadily passed by packs of men in matching lyrca outfits all with the body fat percentage of a cricket. On the way back home heading west, the tailwind was my friend.
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