Nightglow Window

Muscle Fatigue

I am a 24 Hour Fitness Gym Bob this morning. I manage to hover for an hour in that 148-beats-a-minute state where sweat and endorphins flow. A blissful zone where everything seems possible but a dry shirt. Twenty miles without moving an inch on the lifecycle, then the muscle-burn machinations of the fitness machines. I'm embarrassed at my sopping shirt and my socks won't stay up. But feeling a little awkward is common here in the land of the beautiful people.

Home again and out comes the ball for about twenty minutes -- fun and way more muscle intensive than you'd think.

I am done at this point, completely whipped, but remember I have to drop the Vanagon off to get new tires. So I load my bicycle into the car (looking at it warily, wearily) and drive to Firestone. Once I start peddling home though, my second wind kicks in, blows me up to the O-side North Jetty, then down to Cannon for a climb through the "U-Pick" Strawberry Fields (not quite ripe yet). It turns into a twenty-mile ride (on top of this morning's twenty).

Now, the two-mile walk to go pick up the girls from school feels very long indeed.


My ride. It was sunny and beautiful.