76

The number of minutes I anticipate it will take me to get home tonight.
76
The number of times I woke up last night.
38 times scared.
38 times excited. Anticipating.

I have a knot in my stomach.
It's called biking.
It's called commuting home.
I'll be on that road again.
Or not.
I have the bike map and might take a longer route home.
Or I might just get back on that horse and face my demons.
Ooh, that felt like gargling with ipecac.

Make me strong.
Make me brave.
Make me just do it
and revel in it
and come to that easy pass
with biking
where I don't even think about it
except to get the good shivers of anticipation.
Make me visualize today's Denver temps of 70s
and sun
riding toward those iridescent blue mountains
now topped with white...

76 minutes most-anticipated,
here I come.

Post script: It took me 80. And I wondered. Is this OK pain or the kind of after-a-serious-injury-needs-to-rest pain? But then... I neared home and the peace happened. The kind of peace that comes only from biking. Ahh...

Stats: 1:20.45, 21.47 miles, 15.9 Av