Back in the Saddle, pt 2

I think it's beyond time to swing this blog a little toward the positive side. So, what to talk about? Why, one of my favorite little hobbies since my youth: cycling.

Back in July of '22, I posted a quiet note to Instagram that I was, indeed, "back in the saddle." The picture I posted was of my new bike, on which I rode from my home in Queen Creek all the way to the Mesa Temple. Geez, how many miles is that? Quick maths. Twenty-four miles away from here. Which makes for a 48-mile round trip. That cannot be right.

<div class="otw-center">RyanDavid searches his workout history</div>

OK, never mind, I solved the mystery. It was a 41.02-mile ride. I didn't make it back to the house, but I cannot remember if that was on purpose or not. Emily picked me up at the Gilbert Temple, and we unceremoniously shoved my bike inside the back of her minivan.

Maybe I was about to pass out. Maybe. It was July, after all. But my workout app says the starting temperature was 84º. I'm sure it was humid... but guess what the starting temperature was for today's ride?

92º.

It's March 21st.

And at the end of my ride? It was 103 blazing degrees outside. I got to about 21 miles and had to stop at a local Circle K to retreat from the sun and get fresh water and snacks. One gentleman, upon seeing me downing my Gatorade outside the establishment, looked at me with unperturbed consternation and said, "Really impressive you're riding in this heat today."

To which I said, "Sure, or really stupid." And it was really stupid, full stop.

I lay in bed this morning feeling tired and sluggish, no doubt partly attributable to my date-night dinner of Raising Cane's chicken and fries and the two-thirds of a bag of trail mix I ate while watching Project Hail Mary with Emily. So I should have left much, much earlier than I did. Kudos to me for leaving at all. My motivation was almost certainly tied to the fact that I told myself I would do no more than 15 miles.

But I felt so bloody good.

And I have this terrible habit of not listening to my body, instead deciding ad hoc to push myself further and further. The in-the-moment logic behind today's punishing ride was that I rode 30 miles last week, so anything less than that was tantamount to failure.

And we couldn't have that now, could we?

But I digress. The ride finished at exactly 30 miles, with me pouring the remainder of my water bottle all over myself as my 17-year-old walked up and said she knew exactly how I felt, having had track practice this entire week from 11 to 1 p.m. Coach's logic probably seemed sound enough two months ago, when anticipated March temperatures would be 30º below today's high-water mark.

Blah blah blah, I'm just bitching now. But it does all connect, because if I lived anywhere else, I would freeze. My internal thermostat was designed by a deeply unserious God.

Case in point: I mentioned going to the movies last night to see Project Hail Mary (Go, btw. Just go see it.), and Emily turned to me while we were walking inside the theatre and asked me whether I was gonna be warm enough in my T-shirt and shorts. The easy answer was no. It's always no. I am only comfortable when the ambient temperature rests between 76º and 78º. Anything above or below, and I am a miserable wretch of a human being.

And that meant I had to waltz out of the movie 15 minutes in and purchase a freaking $20 blanket from the concierge. I would like to allay any doubts you may have, dear readers, and tell you I will not be making that mistake again, but I will. I certainly will.

Because I am reminded of my honeymoon to Florida, when I had to purchase a sweatshirt in July because the air-conditioned stores were too much for me to handle. So no, I don't learn lessons very well. Not about climate. Not about overexertion. Not about any of the things that should, by now, have been firmly settled in a person of my age.

What was my point in all of this, for crying out loud? I've lost the thread.

Oh, I'm biking again. Hooray!

And honestly, that is the point. Despite the heat, despite my stupidity, despite Arizona trying to kill me before lunch, I am biking again. And that feels like a very good thing.

For those of you who suffered through the delirium of my anecdote today, I congratulate you. I also apologize! And a quick note, dear readers... the fragments page has quickly evolved into my favorite treasure of this site. Pop on over when you can, and you might be surprised to see someone new posting over there.