$115 at 100 °

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. word”?  It’s fun.  I swear on this blog all the time.  But I like “m.f.”

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