Ride, Captain Ride

Ride, captain ride on your mystery ship,
Be amazed at the friends you've got there on your trip.
Ride, captain ride on your mystery ship,
Be aware of the things others just might have missed

This old Blood, Sweat and Tears tune was playing on the internal turntable earlier this morning as I approached Wollaston Beach, riding my fabulous recumbent trike. Getting there AND home without the assist of an iron lung  or tow from Biondi’s is a magnificently huge deal to me!

For context -- eight years and some change ago, getting dressed, leaving the house to make the round trip journey across the street to the shoreline and back, while holding onto Bob or the physical therapist, was a grand nap-worthy achievement.

I just did eight plus miles, (with hills!) and I feel great! A shower is def in order, no doubt, but I feel most excellent -- like I could’ve even ridden farther. Molto encouraging.

It certainly helped that the temperature was in the low 40s (versus those chintzy seven degrees we had last Friday ), most of the snow and ice has melted off the roads, the wind was quiet and the sun wasn’t blinding me.

 Ever since I got the trike I’ve been talking of building up enough strength so that I can ride up and down Wollaston Beach at dawn. There’s a zillion and one half scenes to capture with my little Canon, every damned morning. There are folks clamming in the shallows, sailboats clustered like flocks of tall seagulls and that big ball of orange climbing over the horizon, making the bay look like the most glorious color field painting of all time -- to name just a few tableau.

The beach is just about 2.5 miles in length so that adds five miles to my total ride.

Now I know -- I CAN DO IT -- Yea!