A bit of Bike Commuting

I’ve been riding my bike three days a week. My day goes: wake up, eat breakfast with the boys, play, get everyone dressed, drive, park, bike, work, bike, drive, hang with my family, put Evan to bed, go to bed.

It’s a nice routine.

Yeah, I could get hurt or killed by a car. I’ll risk it.

And I am alive. I feel a connection to my body and my ancestors.

Life with a little athleticism and a little risk – it suits me better than looking like a man I saw the other day at a store.  It looked like he was wearing a fat suit. He was carrying a giant water container. He could have been the smartest, nicest person in the world. But my read was that he looked smothered by fat and stupidity. Overweight and pay for something that runs freely from a faucet.

I can’t be good all the time. I can’t withhold judgment all the time. I can’t tell anyone how to live their life.

I can be smart with my time and money. I can be someone who does not want to slowly concede to gaining a few more pounds ever year. I am someone who does not want to concede to going to a grave plump, pale and in debt.

What does your American dream look like?

Ride and seek.

 

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