We are joyously wallowing in a remarkable run of Indian Summer days, the kind that forebodes a change in season is long overdue. Mornings are crisp, exhales steamy, and the ungloved hand seeks warmth in pockets. Wardrobes are a contradiction if fall, a time when shade mandates extra layers while full sun begs a simple t-shirt will be more than adequate.
I love my bike. It's there for me when bruised and battered feet grow weary of hiking and climbing...foot-slogging, saddled with a burdensome arch-flattening pack that ofttimes threatens to peel me backwards off some mountain.
The only one's who never make a mistake are those who never try anything new. Albert Einstein
A long time ago I found a most effective treatment for anxiety/depression, be it from stress, loss, a broken heart, negative thinking...whatever. And no, the most effective treatment is not a pill and doesn't come in a bottle. For me, and most likely you, the best treatment for sorrow, despair, and regret is to get outdoors and get moving.
Somewhere around 4:30 in the morning on Wednesday, July 1st, my cell rings. It's in the living room, on the hearth next to my chair, so of course I don't hear a thing.
