The First REAL Day of Spring

So I was in a pretty foul mood this morning over dad's health, training-related arguments from last night, and a hangover that had my head feeling like the NBA playoffs had started in my cranium.

The morning didn't get much better. Turns out the Company had told me it was putting $300/month into a pre-tax health care flexible spending account (basically, you spend it, you get it back). Turns out it wasn't quite so. And there's now about four months' worth of my money bouncing around in the ether somewhere, and no chance in hell of getting it back anytime soon.

Dad isn't doing so well. His primary physician is worried about Alzheimer's now. No formal diagnosis, but it's not good. Can't be. So about the best news of the day was that our cousin Elaine is going down to spend the weekend and check on him, make sure he's taking better care of himself. God only knows what we'll do if things don't improve.

With all the crap going on this morning, I didn't make it to the gym today. Which is kind of bad news, since the gym closes for two weeks for repairs and renovations after tomorrow. But I couldn't find my keys and needed Diet Coke, so I jumped on the mountain bike and rode five miles into town to pick some up.

OK, I'll be the first to admit: There's a difference between exercise bicycle hills and mountain bicycle hills. Since I live near the bottom of a hill, the first couple of hills were just brutal. Ouch. I walked periodically just to keep my quadriceps from running away. Going down wasn't exactly a picnic, either. I'd be humming along downhill and look at the Garmin, which would announce some reading along the lines of, oh, Mach 2.4. I could imagine the 'splat' if a tire blew.

Anyway, I made it into town without major injury -- just my pride, thank you -- checked my email at the internet cafe, grabbed my copy of the New Yorker (cartoon at the top) and SI from the post office, and ate a hamburger and fries at the local diner.

Yes, I ate a hamburger. With fries. And I'm not sorry.

Went by the general store, strapped two 12-packs of Diet Coke to the rack. Huffed and puffed up the long hills on the way back to the house. Got to the top of the last (and steepest) hill and saw blue sky. Long valleys. And at least three states. Smelled deep, rich fir. Felt the sun on my face. And for a few minutes, I just felt really, really good.