The Ride

There was a little action on my almost-daily bike ride this morning. About three times a week I get up at about six and ride for half an hour. It's been going on for a while now but it doesn't seem to be having any effect on my physique which unfortunately looks like the guy in "Supersize Me" at the end of his thirty-day ordeal. It was just seven years ago when I resembled his before picture. I keep riding though, hoping that something will happen eventually and because it's such a beautiful ride and I feel rejuvenated when I'm done.

I take a dirt road on the edge of the forbidden wilderness known as Kennecott Property, home of the Kennecott Copper mine. It's only about thirty yards from 84th West, a rather busy highway, but it feels very secluded. On one rainy, windy morning I coaxed myself out of bed to make the trek, and I was very glad I did. A stunningly beautiful mist hung around the tops of the hills and the freezing rain soaked into my clothes and skin, making me feel alive. About a week ago, in much calmer weather, I nearly ran into two does. The trip always starts out up hill. I don't dare go down hill first because I'll never make it home again, so I ride for 25 minutes up hill, then I turn around and take ten minutes to get home. On this particular morning I was cruising pretty fast and, as I was coming round a bend, I didn't see the deer until I was almost on top of them. They hesitated for only a second then jumped over a barbed wire fence in tandem.

A few days ago I noticed a dead black cat in the road. It puzzled me because I've only ever seen one car on the road. I hoped it would decay quickly so I wouldn't have to see it every day, but I knew it would be there for a long time because no one goes there. Today there was a second cat, a long-haired white one of some sort, lying in the road. I'm not sure how this is happening. As I rode past, my calf started to itch. I scratched it and it itched again. I looked down and saw a large black fly making me his dinner. I swatted at it to brush it away and smeared it all over my leg, streaking blood on my hand. I was pretty squeamish because a friend of mine had told me the other day about watching the program, "Nature" about parasites and how this guy was walking in the jungle and was bitten by a black fly on the stomach. The resulting red mark grew in size over a few weeks and he found himself the proud papa of an inch long larva.

I kept going and startled a jack rabbit. I would have enjoyed this more, but I kept thinking I'd better go to the doctor. I'm not going to wait around like that guy. He even called the thing "George," for crying out loud! No Georges alowed in my leg, thank you very much.