With each stroke of my pedal the endorphins surge from my stinky feet up through my frizzy hair. Riding my bicycle is better than popping a milligram of Xanax.
Tomorrow I take off for my next little jaunt, cruising down the coast of California. Although this isn’t nearly as adventurous as embarking to an exotic locale solo or as physically rigorous as the cross country rides some of my friends have taken, I am damn tickled pink to experience the next month of my life. I plan on meeting many other folks who are playing the same game.
I fucking love riding my bicycle. This isn’t a secret. This isn’t anything new.
My friends are fucking awesome.