It is just slightly over 28 ½ miles from my house to my office in Sacramento by bike. I know this from first hand experience because this morning I decided that all the problems I had last week were most likely due to the heat, and that I really ought to just suck it up and give the ride a try. So I did. I got up extra early and rode my bike to work. It took me a little over two hours to do it, which wasn't as bad as it could have been because I only had to fight the wind when I was heading east, but not when I was heading north. One learns to be grateful for the little things when one’s butt has gone numb and one’s thighs are muttering threats of dire consequences for forcing them to do such strenuous activity so early in the morning.

I never intended to ride home, since tonight my office left work early and headed over to Old Sacramento for dinner and then a Rivercats (minor league baseball) game. Good thing, too, considering that by the time the day was over my front tire was completely flat, not to mention that the wind had picked up considerably and it might have taken me until the end of the second inning just to make it over to the ball park if I’d tried to ride.

I spent the entire day being sore, but it was a good sore. I am eying the calendar now, trying to figure out whether or not I can make this a weekly occurrence. I didn’t end up falling asleep at work (even though I think I could have, if given the chance), and I can always carry enough ibuprofen with me to make the thigh muscles shut up until they get over their little tantrum and get used to the whole idea.

It’s only 28 ½ miles. That’s not so bad. Really it isn’t.

If I tell myself this often enough do you think I will eventually come to believe that it is true?