Or then again, let's not...

After my fun bike ride on Monday morning, I was looking forward to going again today – especially since my riding buddy Richard was joining me. We haven’t been able to cycle together much at all since winter.

The first sign that the ride was ill-fated occurred Monday night, when my poor little angel Rainbow threw up most of the night. I warned Richard that I may be next and we arranged that I would email him this morning if I could still come. Fortunately, I didn’t get sick (yet) and I was ready to roll.

My uncertainty must have thrown Richard off his game because he arrived without cycling shoes and couldn’t go. I’m not a big fan of riding by myself but since I was awake and ready at 6:00 a.m., I figured I may as well do a short ride.

Being alone with my thoughts is not a good thing.

For the first few miles, my whiny self-talk was all about how crappy I felt, how my quads were burning and my legs were tired, where I could pull over in case the stomach bug hit, blah blah blah. Then I hit a more remote section of the route and my negative little brain began to imagine all sorts of situations wherein I, a solo rider, was abducted and tortured in some way. I actually started imagining calling Scouter to give him a description (“scary”) and license plate (“freaky stalker”) of someone following me. This exercise went on for a few miles until I finally turned around. Since I was still in a remote area, I then had the opportunity to dwell on how I would protect myself against someone if necessary. Finally I reached civilization again and got my mind back on my ride. It was a relief to think about hills, pedal strokes, and breathing.

When I got back to my car, I was a sweaty mess. I’m not sure whether it was the humidity or my self-induced anxiety. Statistics were 15 miles at 17.5 mph average speed.

Come join me next week, will ya? I need to be saved from myself.