The ride home last night was much better than the ride in. For one thing, the weather had warmed up, there was no grueling headwind (I was able to notch it up a gear), and I cut to the bike path.
Riding east on Jackson was a bit of a thrill, what with all the rush-hour traffic and buses and construction and no bike lane, but it wasn't nearly as bad as trying to navigate Wacker. I crossed Michigan Ave and headed for the water; by now other bikers had joined me. We hit the path and it was gorgeous: the sun was out, the lake was blue, and a stream of bikers formed a moving line of poetry along the bike path. We passed underneath a bridge, then out and by Lakepoint Tower (hello Oprah), and rode past beaches with the city's high rises on our left. It was stunning.
About ten blocks south of my exit a cold front magically appeared; it was like bicycling into a freezer. the air didn't look any different, it just suddenly dropped about fifteen degrees.
I got home and took a nice hot shower, fed the critters and headed to Target to use the gift card my landlord had given me. I bought a bathroom scale and cat litter, because I live a life of excitement. In the parking garage a huge silver Hummer pulled by me. I made eye contact with the fat man behind the wheel.
"How can you drive that and not realize what a pathetic joke you are?" I telepathed to him.
After a fairly sedentary winter, fourteen miles or so in one day made themselves felt, and I had that pleasant all-body fatigue that comes from good hard exercise. I hit the bed and curled up with Harry.
This morning was overcast, and I remembered the forecast had called for rain, so I took the bus instead. I'm still tired, so it's probably for the best that I stagger my bike days initially to give my muscles time to rebuild. I should mention that it took a half-hour longer to get to work by bus than by bike. Nice.