I see weary, filthy people biking in to town and I think I'm jealous.But I'm not jealous, on the secret inside of myself, I do not desire to push a pedal down one bit. I can feel the achy lazy structure of my muscles inside me and this is not a desire to pedal.
I wish I wanted to bike. I spend more time wanting to stop biking. Then I feel bad. This "vacation" has been full of guiltxiety, which is a word I just invented.
It feels good to just, just accomplish. When the road is even and my spirit is good. Early in and trying out being something, I feel good. And I feel good as soon as the misery is retrospect.. That might be the best part. The instant that it becomes bought time.
My mind wants to make a very trite metaphor out of everything. The road, the difficulty, the hills. I get a lot of gratitude remembering by feeling it the way that pedaling mercifully pushes that down. I doubt I would love biking as much as I do if it didn't knock all the thoughts out of my head.
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