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07-12-11, 05:33 AM
You've all had mornings like these. It was one of those mornings where just waking up hurts - like you've been rode hard and put up wet. Every bone and muscle in my body seemed to be either sore or aching. My head was full of a throbbing fog, like I had been drinking hard the night before, even though I had not. At least with a hangover you have fond memories of a good drunk. All I could do was ask my wife if she got the plate number of the truck that must have run me over and dragged me along a couple dozen miles of bad road. Speaking of bad road, WTF is that staring back at me in the mirror? :eek: My eyes are a couple of slits in a sack of potatoes...and behind those slits are a map of tiny red roads all leading to a vortex of nothingness...a deep black hole. Where's my f'ing gun, we got zombies among us!
The little wussy in me is whispering "you don't need to ride in this morning...sleep that extra half-hour, drive the truck to work, stop at the donut shop on the way". Donuts...mmm. But nooo, the jarhead in me beats down the little wussy and tells me to HTFU and get in the shower. Yeah, a shower, that's the ticket.
The shower helps...barely. I turned the water on as hot as I could and just stood there like a dead man drooping, letting the steaming water course over my body until the darned smoke detector out in the hallway started going off (Someday I'm gonna shoot that f'ing thing). OK, time to stretch this old body and see if it can remember how to function again. The POP, POP, POP of cartilage, vertebra and muscle would have caused a lesser woman to come rushing into the bathroom, thinking I had gone Postal on the cat or something. But she's seen this movie before and knows to just ignore the racket and leave me to my suffering in blissful peace and pain.
I'm still feeling like dog crap. I can't even manage to lift my leg to kick the cat into the toilet as she attempts to drink out of it. The dogs scurry away before me in fear as I pad back to the bedroom to get dressed. They sense danger...and rightfully so. It's not that I am angry at them, but they know from experience that if I trip over them...which is a good possibility on mornings like these...they risk experiencing the flight of a football after it is teed up and the whistle blows. Play ball! Wait...that's baseball - my mind is toast.
I manage to pull on my wool boxers, socks, shorts, shirt and ball cap without incident...but it takes me like three tries to tie my shoes and cinch the laces away under the keeper. Luckily I packed my clothes last night, so all I have to do is pack up my wallet, phone and keys into one pocket, then grab my yogurt and water bottle from the fridge. Getting my MP3 player going requires thought I am not equipped for this morning, but after getting thrown into the wall a few times it decides to cooperate. Good boy.
Getting on the bike is effort. I teeter a bit as I swing my leg over the top tube, but manage not to fall on my ass. The first push of the pedal seems like an Olympic weightlifting gold medal effort, I think "Gawd, why did you let me get old?" as I grunt the bike into action. But then I am off, gliding down the driveway, America's Sister Golden Hair soothing my ears, a cool breeze on my face. Yep, it's summer, I am on my bike, life is good. The cobwebs clear, the pain and stiffness disappears and as I turn off my street unto my first arterial, I am singing along and feeling good as I begin tapping out a brisk cadence.
When I get to work I give everyone a cheerful "Good morning!" which they answer with grunts, yawns and outright disdain. Pfft, all you negative nellies should have rode a bike to work, I feel great! :D
I've been riding my bike to either school or work for over 40 years...the waking up and getting going only gets harder with age...but the joy and invigoration that riding the bike brings never lessens. :thumb:
The little wussy in me is whispering "you don't need to ride in this morning...sleep that extra half-hour, drive the truck to work, stop at the donut shop on the way". Donuts...mmm. But nooo, the jarhead in me beats down the little wussy and tells me to HTFU and get in the shower. Yeah, a shower, that's the ticket.
The shower helps...barely. I turned the water on as hot as I could and just stood there like a dead man drooping, letting the steaming water course over my body until the darned smoke detector out in the hallway started going off (Someday I'm gonna shoot that f'ing thing). OK, time to stretch this old body and see if it can remember how to function again. The POP, POP, POP of cartilage, vertebra and muscle would have caused a lesser woman to come rushing into the bathroom, thinking I had gone Postal on the cat or something. But she's seen this movie before and knows to just ignore the racket and leave me to my suffering in blissful peace and pain.
I'm still feeling like dog crap. I can't even manage to lift my leg to kick the cat into the toilet as she attempts to drink out of it. The dogs scurry away before me in fear as I pad back to the bedroom to get dressed. They sense danger...and rightfully so. It's not that I am angry at them, but they know from experience that if I trip over them...which is a good possibility on mornings like these...they risk experiencing the flight of a football after it is teed up and the whistle blows. Play ball! Wait...that's baseball - my mind is toast.
I manage to pull on my wool boxers, socks, shorts, shirt and ball cap without incident...but it takes me like three tries to tie my shoes and cinch the laces away under the keeper. Luckily I packed my clothes last night, so all I have to do is pack up my wallet, phone and keys into one pocket, then grab my yogurt and water bottle from the fridge. Getting my MP3 player going requires thought I am not equipped for this morning, but after getting thrown into the wall a few times it decides to cooperate. Good boy.
Getting on the bike is effort. I teeter a bit as I swing my leg over the top tube, but manage not to fall on my ass. The first push of the pedal seems like an Olympic weightlifting gold medal effort, I think "Gawd, why did you let me get old?" as I grunt the bike into action. But then I am off, gliding down the driveway, America's Sister Golden Hair soothing my ears, a cool breeze on my face. Yep, it's summer, I am on my bike, life is good. The cobwebs clear, the pain and stiffness disappears and as I turn off my street unto my first arterial, I am singing along and feeling good as I begin tapping out a brisk cadence.
When I get to work I give everyone a cheerful "Good morning!" which they answer with grunts, yawns and outright disdain. Pfft, all you negative nellies should have rode a bike to work, I feel great! :D
I've been riding my bike to either school or work for over 40 years...the waking up and getting going only gets harder with age...but the joy and invigoration that riding the bike brings never lessens. :thumb: