Burn-ham! Burn-ham! Burn-ham!
The deed is done. My rubbery legs have begun to stabilize. My case of third-degree helmet Jew-fro has been diagnosed and treated. My Dunkin Donuts coffee is piping hot.
I honestly wasn't certain I'd bike all the way today. Maybe to downtown and then hop a bus the rest of the way. But by the time I got to the Loop I figured what the hell, so I cut over to the Lakefront (I had taken the streets up until then) and enjoyed the jewel of Burnham's grand plan the rest of the way. It was a meditative last few miles along the Lake. It gave me time to think about sacrifice (namely that it's hard to give up my morning Red Eye sudoku puzzle in order to bike to work) and the need to acknowledge the important things in life (such as adding 'vigorish' to the list of words that I love).
I also missed the CTA's usual cast of characters. Granted, I have not seen a morning rush hour man-on-man blow job in a couple of years, but the Brown Line is still good theater. All I got today was a woman jogging in a skirt and another, let's describe her as looking bronzed and severe, biking in nothing but a leather jacket and a bikini. Fair play to her.
Thanks to everyone who gave me handy-dandy tips on not being Nasty, Sweaty Biker Guy.
Oh, I'd like to wish myself a Happy Anniversary. Yesterday marked five years since my last cigarette on American soil - a tasty Marlboro Light in front of Haskell Hall at the U of C. Problem is that I've been having more cravings recently (for cigarettes, not grad school). Since my policy is that I can smoke in foreign countries, maybe this is just my body's way of telling me I need a vacation. Anyone want to go to Argentina with me?!?