In Which I Am Unbearably Full of Myself

First: I forgot to mention that I rode my bike to work two weeks ago for the first time.

I did it on a Sunday so I would have no time pressures in finding the best route to work--i.e., the route with the fewest opportunities for a grim driver in an SUV to unwittingly--or deliberately--crush me to death. So: side street down to Aurora, bike lane partway around Green Lake and up Ravenna, non-arterial street through the U District, Burke Gilman trail to the Montlake Bridge, sidewalk across the bridge, trail under highway 520, and side streets to work.

I took it easy, like I said. This was three Sundays ago, a clear sunny day that nearly hit 90 degrees. I found the route I'd marked out on the map, and I made it back home again with nary a scratch.

And I had a blast! I hadn't realized it, but my brain associates getting on a bicycle with being on vacation from all the summer breaks spent riding bikes around the property. I found myself cruising down Brooklyn Avenue with a big smile on my face, enjoying the wind in my hair and the bright morning sun.

So I did it on a workday, four times since then. It's almost exactly 6 miles one way and in a stroke of brilliant convenience, the home-to-work way is mostly downhill. I can cruise to work in 35 minutes (driving to work takes a little more than 20 minutes, usually) and hardly break a sweat, change my clothes and be ready for work in two shakes of my little chamois. I've ridden about 60 miles in the last two weeks. That's not much, really, but it's 60 miles farther than I rode in the 2 weeks before that, anyway.

Second: I was coerced into going with a friend to Wild Waves / Enchanted Village in Federal Way last Saturday, and for the first time in my life I went on a roller coaster that goes upside-down.

I went on it twice.