So true! I have had the same sort of season, out of shape, back pain, slow. But there’s more to riding bikes than data and keeping score..
It’s a great day to smile! Earlier this season I was letting myself focus on all the wrong things. I’m out of shape. My friends are faster than me. I keep getting dropped on the group ride etc. Then it occurred to me, stop riding for the reasons other people ride and get back to what I love about cycling. Having fun, sharing laughs, seeing beautiful landscapes, staying fit, and lastly pushing my personal limits. Since then, the bike has been everything I need it to be. Photo Credit: @hbstache #milesofsmiles #outsideisfree #rideeverydamnday
These words are just excellent
Watering these guys is one of the best parts of my day. #coneflowers #echinacea #vsco #vscocam
Clouds at the top of the city
Empire State Building - Hugs in the Rain #nyc #empirestate #esb #vscocam
Hotel #NYC #timessquare #vscocam
Northeast Regional Service - BWI Station #vscocam
Recently a friend of mine asked me to contribute to a list of things we wished we’d known at 13 for a boy who is about to turn 13.
Here’s what I came up with:
Things I wish I’d known at 13
- For every person who breaks your heart, there is likely someone who you’ve heart-broken.
- Shined shoes are one way potential employers judge whether you’d be the right person for the job.
- Everyone is delicate on…
View On WordPress
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Joyce, James (2013-07-12). Dubliners (pp. 182-183). Aonia edizioni. Kindle Edition.