Some days the bike ride really does feel like a hamster wheel, and today was one of those, which is exactly what I wanted. I woke up with the sense that something wasn’t right, couldn’t shake it through reading, meetings, emailing, or writing, so at the end of the day, I put on my bike shoes and took my bike to the reservoir to do laps, one after another, listening to a song or two on repeat. I wanted to make it home before dark, having foolishly left my reflective safety gear in that pile of crap on that one chair in the living room, so I pedaled as fast as I could, chasing the sunset as the sun dipped a little lower and the sky changed shades with each lap. I passed the same people over and over–the couple on the bench at the 3/4 turn, the couple doing their own laps with a penchant for playful punching, the guy setting up some kind of elaborate photo of the sky that will surely be better than mine, those two women talking under the trees on the homestretch who gave me the how-you-doing nod every time I passed them, the man with the two kids hanging all over the pull-up bars by the drinking fountain, the woman on her cell phone, the woman listening to her ipod, and the other woman listening to her ipod–and the whole mess of us, doing our laps, somehow made me feel better. Days are getting longer and longer, and even though it feels like winter hasn’t started yet, I can’t wait for spring. Around the corner, right? I zipped down the hill to home as the sun snuffed itself out, grateful, as always, for the bicycle.