Weekend, not weakened

Thank Jah it's Friday. Work was a whirlwind this week. I had my usual array of things to do but I was also given an entirely unexpected opportunity to go work on a project in Sacramento. It would have been for a week or two this month and perhaps a couple more in October. I'd have flown out at my employer's expense, been put up in a hotel for the duration, and have had my meals reimbursed. In exchange, I'd have put in long hours and helped my old friends get shit done. I gave it some pretty serious consideration but ultimately declined the offer.

It was a major coincidence. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the trails I rode when I lived there, and wondering if or when I'd get to ride them again. BeanSS and I had a pretty crappy lifestyle in Sacto, but the rides were always sweet. The bad memories have pretty much fallen away, and I'm left with the warm, fuzzy feeling of threading Sierra Foothill singletrack through the oak woodlands and riding the river route next to Chinook salmon spawning on their redds. I've been riding in Tucson for so many years now that it's hard to imagine how buffed some of those trails were. There were no cactus thorns to puncture my tires, my falls were cushioned by accumulated leaves, and what few rocks were present were well-weathered and not at all jagged. In fact, writing about it here further reinforces my desire to get back there and bike down.

And that gets right to the heart of it.

The reason I turned down the temporary job was because all I'd have wanted to do once I touched down in the Big Tomato was ride, and I'd likely have had precious little time outside of work for that. Having flown, I wouldn't have been able to have my own car on hand. I'd therefore have had to choose in advance whether I wanted to ride road or mountain, and then I would have needed to ship the appropriate bike out (likely at considerable expense). I'd probably have gone with my mountain bike, but not wanting to make a mess of a rental car, I'd have been limited to trails to which I could ride from town.

I feel bad for my old friends there, because they're shorthanded and the project for which they need help is as fugly as they get. Still, I'd rather they find someone who is less likely to spend hours looking longingly out the windows that face the Sierra Nevada, an employee who won't try and play hookie every afternoon. It also just so happens that the project I'd have worked on very much resembles the one that, 5 years ago, contributed appreciably to my all-consuming desire get home to Arizona.

Meanwhile, back in the here and now in the Old Pueblo, I'm readying myself for my weekend activities. The dogs will get a walk or two, and I'll probably spend a little time scanning the skies for birds. I rode to work in 65-degree air this morning. I'm hoping for more of the same because BeanSS and I are on tap for a sunrise ride with Veelz the day after tomorrow. The scab from the runner's nipple I received during last Sunday's ride has finally fallen off, so despite having been provided too much information, you at least know I'm ready.