Low Key, Laid Back
Last evening, as I was finishing up a short ride, cruising smoothly on one of the final legs of the route, I saw a woman in a car heading the opposite way, looking at me then yelling, "Get on the sidewalk!" I wasn't impeding her progression in any way. I wasn't impeding the traffic behind me in any way. In fact, right when she screeched at me, I was passing a "Share the Road" sign. I found this to be incredibly funny and just shook my head. Some motorists plainly don't realize cyclists and motorists operate under the same set of rights and rules. I'd much rather ride on the road than on the sidewalks where there are walkers, runners, babies in strollers, rollerbladers, and dogs. I'm pretty sure all of these people and their pets are extremely happy for the fact that I'm riding in the street and not barreling towards them. So sorry lady, I'm staying in the road and you're just going to have to learn to deal with it.
Another funny I witnessed the night before last was when I went for a walk, going to a nearby lake that has a path going all the way around for a one-mile loop. I was on my second loop when a young woman came onto the path, jogging just ahead of me. At this point, I began jogging myself, thinking a one-mile jog loop would do me good. About halfway around, the young woman slowed to a walk. I came up behind her and watched as she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I know we all have our vices. I'm just really glad the young woman is at least balancing her tobacco vice with the healthful activity of jogging. Who knows, maybe eventually the smoking will cease one day, becoming a dropped habit, and having been replaced by a daily dose of ten laps around the lake.
Today, at the midway point of our ride, Hubby and I sat on a concrete barrier of a bridge spanning a country creek. Below us, five ducklings came out from under the bridge, swept along by the creek's current. Mama was nowhere in sight. I watched as the group continued downstream. At one point the water slowed and the five were able to swim across to one side, taking refuge in an area where the water was still. Some time later, Mama came in, loudly announcing her presence. She began her search for her young, paddling unaware right past them. All of a sudden, she stopped, turned, and began to backtrack. The five ducklings came out of their hiding spot, eager to be with Mama again.
This week has been low-key and laid back. That's a good week in my book, and exactly what summer should be all about.
Another funny I witnessed the night before last was when I went for a walk, going to a nearby lake that has a path going all the way around for a one-mile loop. I was on my second loop when a young woman came onto the path, jogging just ahead of me. At this point, I began jogging myself, thinking a one-mile jog loop would do me good. About halfway around, the young woman slowed to a walk. I came up behind her and watched as she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I know we all have our vices. I'm just really glad the young woman is at least balancing her tobacco vice with the healthful activity of jogging. Who knows, maybe eventually the smoking will cease one day, becoming a dropped habit, and having been replaced by a daily dose of ten laps around the lake.
Today, at the midway point of our ride, Hubby and I sat on a concrete barrier of a bridge spanning a country creek. Below us, five ducklings came out from under the bridge, swept along by the creek's current. Mama was nowhere in sight. I watched as the group continued downstream. At one point the water slowed and the five were able to swim across to one side, taking refuge in an area where the water was still. Some time later, Mama came in, loudly announcing her presence. She began her search for her young, paddling unaware right past them. All of a sudden, she stopped, turned, and began to backtrack. The five ducklings came out of their hiding spot, eager to be with Mama again.
This week has been low-key and laid back. That's a good week in my book, and exactly what summer should be all about.
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