I'm typing this one-handed because right now George is sprawled in my lap with his flat muzzle nested in the crook of my left arm, contentedly snoring away. I'm still in my pajamas, I've finished a bowl of granola, and a mug of coffee is cooling by my typing hand, next to the keyboard.
And I'm not on my bike.
I'd planned to head out on an early-morning ride. I just put on some skinny tires to roll just a little bit faster, and changed my cassette to a tighter gearing. I even cleaned and lubed the chain before I went to bed last night. But when I awoke to yet another raw, rainy morning I decided to stuff it. I'm sick of this. I'm not going to get cold and wet on my bike yet again, not on my day off. I'm gonna watch downhill videos on the interweb instead.
At least George is happy.
I feel you. Perhaps I'm making excuses when I say this, but trying to stay motivated (whether it be cycling or writing) when it's so damn gray and depressing outside is a challenge. And the 20 minute windows of sunshine this week have been a tease.
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