A car coming up behind a bus stopping to let passengers off at a bus stop on Packard this evening and honking at it. What are you going to accomplish by honking at a bus, for crying out loud?

I don’t know if it’s just me, or if as a grad student you just become used to sitting at attention through three-hour classes several times a week, but it was fascinating to sit at the back of a room this afternoon during a presentation and watch a class of undergrads (who were, for the most part, polite, attentive, and non-sullen) start to shift around and squirm in their seats and lose their focus 35 minutes into it. (The presentation was terrific, so that wasn’t the issue.)

Oh, the oozing contempt with which the BBC reporter pronounced the phrase “to plant her spring garden” tonight (in reference to Martha Stewart’s stated desire to get out of prison by next March to attend to her horticultural obligations) …

Holy crap, that was a great ride I just took. Yes, the surgeon said stay off the bike for two months, but … I miss it too much. It’s almost an addiction/high today. I rode the long circuit around, just five miles, but got a total rush from it, particularly in the legs.

And my upper arms feel good too. The wrists … well, not so hot. But hey. You only live once. And I feel really, really good all over, so it compensates. We won’t talk about the further damage to the wrists.

I’m realizing more and more what a hot performing bike the Bobcat is. It is very easy to push along and it takes the abuse of the pavement without even pausing to think about it. That front suspension is wonderful and I’m especially pleased I held out for the disc brakes. Thing stops on a dime, which comes in handy with all the insane people on the roads around Ann Arbor.

Even though I am limiting myself to one or two rides a week, I’m still retaining most of my shape. I can push the sucker along with ease in most situations and rarely have to gear down. I’m more than ready to kick it up quite a bit and hit the serious road trip.

But the wrists are holding me back, big time. If I use the bike to whip my sorry self into shape, I cause further damage to the wrists. If I do what the surgeon wants, I become a blob and get really far behind on what I really want to do: climb fourteeners all over the US. Hike in national parks far from the maddening tourist crowd. Bike in Arches and Moab. And so on.

I’m enormously frustrated right now. This evening’s ride was both a rush and served to increase my frustration. But I’m not letting them set me back; I’m pushing on.

I am determined.