I have been sick for 5 of the last six weeks. The week I wasn't sick happened to be the worst storm in DC history. I am starting to get the feeling that I'm not actually a cyclist anymore. After spending most of the week in my house... in my bathrobe, I am ready to chew the bark off a tree. With the latest round of chest congestion I am in no condition to bike, so I caught another car ride into work this morning. At lunch I walked down to my beloved Capital Crescent Trail to see how it was fairing without me.
The trail looked amazing but I don't think it missed me, and rightfully so.
Seeing the trail made me recall when as a younger man some friends and I hiked down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back up in the same day. It changed my life, it was one of the best things I've ever done. After emerging from the canyon we were rabid with euphoria and searched down the first person we could find so they could bear witness to out achievement. We came upon an old weathered man and launched at him a volley descriptions and accounts of all that we had overcome. His response was as deep to me as the canyon itself.
"The canyon doesn't care..." he said.
I need to stop whining. Cabin fever doesn't make me less of a cyclist. I just need a ride. One of those holy rides that sets everything right again and delivers a much needed dose of perspective.
A three day weekend won't hurt either.