November 17 , 2004: Graveyard shift

After a BRU-TAL day at work, I didn't even want to look at the bike. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep it off. But yesterday I took the time and effort to prep my bike and put the lights on the rack, so I couldn't let all that work go to waste. The rain kept me from doing my 20 weekday-ride miles last week (See November 10, 2004: Rain or shine), so I was determined to do the barest of bare minimums, 20.01, and get home and back to my funk.

It was a graveyard night out there tonight. The fog was extremely thick but very dry, and it was very cold. The night lay still and ponderous -- hallucinatory conditions yet again.

It would have been hard to tell the difference between a hallucination and reality tonight because the fog was so very, very thick. Hurtling along trails that I'm navigating more by memory than by vision, objects in and along the trail would suddenly come gradually into focus. My disproportionate speed to visibility ratio had me way of out sync with the baseline time-space contiuum, so it was all one big hallucination. Trees and pampas grass and shadows on the trailsides slowly sliding by me in fish-eye lens perspective while the trail immediately off my front tire goes crackling underwheel faster that I can process -- rock, rut, sand, just hang on and try to remember which direction the trail next twists. It was dry enough for me to keep my glasses on, but they only served to heighten my mutated perspective.

You're seeing what I was seeing out there tonight
A snapshot of my nerves after a tough work day
Blue enjoys a post-ride wash and wipe

As early into the ride as the BMX jumps along the backside EG, audible babbling had begun. My head was whirling from the fog's sensory deprivation. Sound was also distorted.

"Yo Hortenz, another chi-chi for my pee-pee (fell asleep in the recliner while watching Beevis and Buthead do America last night). Hee-hee, hee, hee-hee."

"Unnchhle Dhickky, iz that you ole timer?"

"If your brain was half as fast as your mouth skunk stool, you'd be a friggin' twenty-star general by now."

"Ya goddamn right he does!"

You ever have this guy in the group -- the ballbuster. He's the guy that's always up in everybody's faces, calling them out, putting them on the spot. "He's intense" some say. "He keeps you honest." Yeah, yeah. I spend a lot of my time trying to keep a lid on my faults, so why do I need some blowhard hanging around announcing them to the world with a laserpointer and a bullhorn.

"Not just another overrated B movie, not like I thought it would be."

It's hard to be completely certain, but I pretty much did a warped figure-8 encompassing EG, Princeton, the Fitz, and Moss Beach County. Blue and I did not get nearly as muddy as last week, but it was sloppy enough to warrant a wash and wipe for Blue when I got home. Crossed paths with a couple of night runners with lights (rookies), but no night cyclists.

Tonight's meager wildlife tally: two burrowing owls, a Jerusalem cricket, and a smattering of bunnies.


Mileage: 21.31 Time: 1:44:39 Avg: 12.2 Max: 31.5 Weight: 174

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