This morning when I biked to work, I really shouldn’t have.
It was 90 ° at 7:45am with humidity above 50%. I had the dog in a backpack, and a pack of my suit and clothes sitting above the rear wheel. I bike along Lake Michigan, and, while beautiful, is also tough because the wind coming off the lake is usually shooting right at me.
I never really think about things like hot weather being a health issue. But a 45 minute ride into the wind after my morning yogurt cup is pretty tough. I was the sweatiest I’ve ever been when I got to work.
My day was fine, and I ate a few sandwiches which I bring with me. I literally eat the same exact thing just about every day at lunch sitting at my computer. I never thought about it before, but I guess I am that guy.
Right now, as I’m typing this, it’s technically 93 ° but feels like 98 ° according to weather.com. It’s 9:40pm. Hot as nuts.
So, I packed up to go home from work at about 5:30pm. It’s 100 ° and I got the feeling that this probably isn’t my best plan. But, I don’t really have a choice. Plus, I’m not a doctor. That guy Stu Mittleman ran 1000 miles in 11 days and didn’t even get a blister. Certainly I’m 1% the man he is.
The ride home was not that difficult. It was crazy hot, but the wind helped. I got home, and then I lugged the bike with all the crap up four flights of stairs to my back deck. This is the worst part of the ride each day.
I’m a sweaty mess and I just wanted to go inside where the air has been chilling all day at 72 ° and drink directly from the Britta. I fished for my keys. They were not there.
I checked my extra key I had hidden among the petunias. Oh yeah, I brought that inside last week. Great timing.
I started saying the m.f. word at acceptable decibel levels. I mean I have neighbors. They don’t want to hear me screaming obscenities and shaking my fist at the heavens. By the way, how fun is it to write “saying the m.f. wordâ€? It’s fun. I swear on this blog all the time. But I like “m.f.â€
I really didn’t know what to do. I’m not good in these situations. I couldn’t go back to the office. I had no keys to get in to get my keys which were on my desk. I was insanely tired and thirsty. My dog is outside in 100 ° heat.
Calling my boss, he suggested I get a locksmith. I swear that would have never occurred to me. I would have just sat there waiting to be rescued. I learned that I own the really nice locks according to the lock guy. Took him 45 minutes to do the deadbolt and handle lock. $115.
I just sat the whole time in a chair in the sun mildly hallucinating. I’d like to think this dehydrated meditation yielded some wisdom for me to pass on. It did not. I just thought of all the stuff I do wrong on a regular basis and then felt awful about it. This is not the effect meditation is supposed to provide. Or at least I’m pretty sure I didn’t achieve nirvana.
Oh well, no big deal. It’s over. I’m eating pizza and watching television. I have nothing funny to say, and nothing great to write. I will collapse in two hours and wake up late tomorrow. Pizza for breakfast. Then I will write “m.f.†a few more times.
photo credit: Kevin McShane via photo pin cc
