Uh, world? Yeah, it's me - - - Newt. I'm still here. I got lost for a while, but I'm back. Now I have nothing to write about except the damn fool that . . . No, wait a minute. Let me start again.
I got back on my bike yesterday after almost three years of indolence and lipid accretion. They say you never forget how to ride a bike. As usual, they're wrong.
I took a short and cautious spin around the block, reveling in the breeze on my face and the bugs in my teeth, fat little legs pumping furiously. Then triumphantly back into my driveway.
You know that precarious moment between stopping a bike and planting your feet on the ground? The moment when all your ponderous weight is still on the pedal but your forward momentum is spent, when gravity suddenly demands your full attention? And you're supposed to tilt gracefully toward the other foot, the foot not on the pedal?
Yeah, I did that wrong.
The bleeding has largely stopped, Tylenol being chemical proof that God loves me still. Part of me wants to feel healthier because I actually exercised for a few minutes. But another part of me looks at the gash in my shank, perplexed. "Why, the damned fool forgot how to ride a bike."
I wonder if I remember how this blog thing works. Let's see what develops. And next time, I'll lean the other way.