However optimistic, I still had misgivings. The wind was ferocious. Forecasters predicted dropping temperatures entering the region for later in the day. I changed into double layers of tights—just in case—unlocked the porch where bikes are stored, and was met with northern gusts that howled, whipping trees. Afraid of cold fingers, I bagged the ride and changed into pants, opting instead for a walk.
Yet, I stepped outside to discover it was still in the 40sF and the wind really wasn't bad. Jeesh, I'm so indecisive and frittering can eat up time! Before I changed my mind again, I grabbed a few things, secured a strap around my pant legs, hauled the bike off the porch, and headed out.
his tools and reminiscing with a relative about Gramps, so I headed to visit his grave.
I hadn't been by the cemetery for a year. Dead grass flattened against all the tombstones, newly uncovered from nature's weighty blanket. I easily found my grandparents' resting place.
here.) Moss and grass covered the edge of the stone. I searched for a tool that wouldn't harm the marker's surface and came up with a plastic tire lever, which as I scraped, pulling grass with my left hand, I had to laugh—Grandpa would've liked my ingenuity.
wild boy at school.
As I walked home with him it occurred to me that I completed another anniebikes triathlon. How odd in January!