11,047 miles last year, which started with a 600 mile January. I plan for 50 miles a week in the cold, although I have thick socks & mountain biking gloves designed for cold, but last year was never actually sustainably cold; little patches like that prove the Cycling Muse (whom I call Bitchy – for Bicicletta) exists & is demanding. So 200 miles a month in the beginning is standard. “Chaos, source of renewal” Pound said; you use the down time to do kettles in the basement, work on legs, hit the bag – not let the bike be the only thing that matters. Yet the Muse is named Bitchy.
I’m avoiding the last of the ice patches today because in the past only luck has kept me up over ice & with only one shoulder left I am leery of depending too much on luck. Tomorrow (MLK Day) ought to be safe enough for actual riding – bundled & heavy, like the rest out here, hunting whatever.
13 days till dad’s birthday. We’ll be in California for that & to sign more endless papers, see the realtor and lawyer, complete mom’s transition. I still have the occasional dream about her but she has nearly gone completely over. Good for her; stuff here is proceeding well, according to what she laid out. No need for spectral supervision. Yet California has its own set of dangerous black ice patches.
I peeked at Koble’s blog again, and Small Stream Reflections. Hoping for something like that after time.
Ecbatan 