Of bikes and blogs

You know how they say resuming an activity is just like riding a bicycle again?

Yeah, very helpful.

Because they don't tell you that it kind of depends on the kind of cycle you're going to use. And the kind of bike you were used to.  Whether it had gears or not, whether it used thick, knobbly tyres or smooth, thin ones.  Whether it had a bottle-carrier clip, or had quick-release wheels, or had a dip handlebar.

And they don't tell you it depends on whether the terrain you're cycling on is different from the one you were used to.  And whether the weather* and climate is different.

And they don't tell you whether you'll be using cycle lanes or not.  And whether you'll be travelling on country lanes or city roads.  And whether you'll have street lighting to ride by.

And they don't tell you whether this is going to be a solitary ride where you can spread your arms and pretend you're flying (really low), or whether you'll have to jostle with other cyclists or trying to dodge drivers who insist in believing you exist solely so they can rack up imaginary GTA points.

And they don't tell you your legs are going to ache so bad, and then you're going to stare at the bike day after day, knowing you really should get on it again because it'll only get easier each time you do it, but the thought of putting on your gear and your helmet and greasing it up and getting it on the road just does you in.

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I know, I know, the old truisms are old because they're true. 
And to write well, one must first write.
And write often.
One must.

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I've been doing some other wordy stuff of late, and the drastic difference between that work and this blog is causing a ... slowdown.

It's almost schizophrenic, having to settle into a completely different mindset for each side. And it's something I underestimated.

I'd assumed this blog would be something I could just easily return to, and these random jottings would flow easily once again.  Not realising just how much thought used to go into those random jottings. Not realising that this represented a part of me that I was focusedly delving into, digging specifically into, and which when left alone, would just heal over and close up.  Not realising that those boring old things like dedicating a time to write, sticking to a schedule, might actually be necessary.

Of course, this block itself is fascinating.  But it's too irksome. So away with it. Sacchi.




* Isn't "whether you can weather the weather"just the most delicious phrase?