DAY 8

We were supposed to go to Ellensburg, cycle the Canyon Road. I woke up early, irritated, but early, inspired, energized, motivated to get something done. First laundry, then brown rice, then vegetable soup. While wearing a baby blue biketard and sipping matcha. Drowning out B's incessant loudness with headphones and my own insistent dicing. I was counting the minutes until there was silence, feeling guilty but also exhilarated.

Change happened quickly; after the food and clothes were packed, the bikes loaded. We stayed locally, drove to Mercer Island and cycled there. 20 years ago I lived in Mt. Baker and the Mercer Island loop was one of my favorite easy rides, all curves and smooth pavement. It was D's first time and I think he liked it; the sun even surprised us. I am so accustomed to biking alone, having him beside me felt unreal. After one loop he drove home and I biked, crossing the I-90 bridge, cruising through Leschi and the Arboretum, hopping back on the Burke-Gilman.

My beloved poop brown Surly, with her unadorned steel frame and basic components does not attract attention or envy. In fact, I almost replaced her last summer with a $2000 iridescent purple carbon-fiber Trek with disc brakes. I felt it was time to get a 'fast bike,' one that I 'deserved' for all the riding I do. But after two weeks of riding this new Trek I wasn't convinced I was happier, or faster. I took it back. I gave Surly a tune-up and apologized for nearly abandoning her.

That was a year ago. Now that I've been riding every day I notice the shifting is off, it clunks loudly, skips. The repairs are beyond my limited skill set - pumping up a tire, putting oil on the chain - so I impulsively stopped at CounterBalance Cycle shop near UVillage, right on the trail. The entrance sign stated only 2 people in the shop at a time; I peered in and saw no other customers. I took a deep breath and entered - I hate bike shops and the condescending men who work and shop in them.  I repeatedly have had frustrating interactions, the arrogance, the mansplaining, the impatience.

But employee Delaney broke the mold, he was kind and simply nice to me. He adjusted my gears but honestly told me I needed a new chain, cassette, rear cable. He offered me a $35 cassette or a $75 one. He even told me he could replace everything while I waited - while I ate my almond butter and orange marmalade sandwich wrapped tightly in a napkin. And I agreed.

It was overwhelming, this kindness, this spontaneity. I rode home, elated.

And then I stupidly opened my computer, started down the deep black hole of the virus and our collective fear and sadness.