Wednesday, July 20, 2005


You know you have a cycling addiction problem when you walk into a bike store to purchase a helmet and walk out with said well as a second pair of fingerless gloves, a neon yellow jersey and an orange summer safety vest. You know it's really a problem when you were going to buy more but got kicked out when the store closed because you couldn't choose between a U-lock and a second pair of bike shorts -- and when the guy behind you in line started teasing you about your gear's coordinated colors (blue, thank you). He told me I should buy an airhorn to grab the attention of wayward drivers...and I almost did...Can't you see me furiously squeezing my horn bulb and shooting death glares at the guy who tries to make a quick left into my path?

The podiatrist removed my stitches today and made the mistake of telling me I could start biking whenever I wanted. Tomorrow morning at 8am, I'll be flying down Eastlake on my way to the dentist -- why drive in this weather when you can combine a workout and a tanning session?

Seriously, there's something wrong with me. I'm dreading the transition from my Trek 520 to the single-gear junkheap I'll purchase to slog along Cambridge's paths. I knew I was in trouble when I experienced a total high biking down the Burke on a frigid January night while the rain spattered my clothes. There's no sight in Seattle that rivals the Burke's panoramic views of the downtown skyline at night -- and no better way to experience those views than to be flying down a deserted trail in the dark with nothing but the sound of your tires singing.

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