Why aren't YOU out riding?

I finally managed to fit in a ride. Last winter while I was training (or pretending to train) for the Arrowhead I plotted out a loop through town. The idea was that if I'm tired, it's dark out, snowing, or I just don't feel like a real out of town ride I can do this loop and still manage to get some riding in. It links together all the in town singletrack, a lot of bike paths, a little gravel, and some hilly roads to make an at least 12 mile workout. I really don't know how long it is, but it took me about an hour to complete it tonight on the Rocket. I've now ridden it three times. Each time I've been sitting at the computer, read someone's "why aren't you out biking" comment, stood up and gone biking.


I found out yesterday that a friend of mine was in a pretty bad cycling accident on TOMRV last weekend. Apparently he went down while descending a pretty big hill. I don't know all the details, but he broke a rib, punctured a lung, and suffered two seizures on the way to the hospital. He's conscious, though sedated, which is at least something good. I've never ridden a bike with him, but from kayaking and XC skiing with him I know that he has the right attitude to pull through something like this.

Head injuries scare me. I've met too many people (mostly through work) whose lives have been affected by them. It's one thing to be physically disabled, but to be mentally disabled is incredibly tragic. Sometimes the person before the accident and afterwards seem like different people (I won't delve into philosophical and psychological ramifications here). I don't have much reason to think that this has happened to my friend, but it worries me nonetheless. Take this as you will, but most of the people I've known with serious head injuries were riding a motorcycle without a helmet when it happened.


I'm getting way behind on book reviews. A couple of Rushdie novels and Guns Germs and Steel are in need of reviewing. I've also been reading quite a bit of sci-fi lately. The good stuff, Philip K. Dick and Frank Herbert, not fluff. Dick's troubled characters and unique time imponderables along with Herbert's sociological insights have kept me too busy reading and away from writing. Maybe I'll have to do a series of one-minute reviews or something like that.