the pleasant light misting of the morning ride turned into a steady dripping rain for the way home. all the clothes i wore today are hanging here and there from beams sticking out of my bed, grit and gravel ticking off of them onto tax documents as they dry out. jon and i inadvertently got tipsy on the excellent mezcal ed gave me. it's as clear as water and has a gentle fiery kick that lifts you over to the other side of sobriety like a baby in a bassinet. i've only had mezcal a couple of times since i was in mexico because the only kind i've seen is the states is that crap monte alban. this stuff came in a woven basket, sealed with beeswax and a warning on the label: sip this. do not shoot. i've been sad this week, but it takes so much energy to be sad and not care for oneself and then climb out of the hole again. so i take myself in hand and turn away from that. as i've grown more used to the new bike i find more joy in cycling. my torso parallel with the frame, the messenger bag tucked into the small of my back, i scoot between waiting cars. time slows, i lean away from the first rear view mirror and then opposite for the other. i'm learning how to float through crowds in the crosswalk and hop the bike over bumps. sooner or later i'm going to miscalculate something, it's always a hairsbreadth away. i've never been a risk taker, and i'm certainly not as reckless as a lot of cyclists i see, but i'm trying to push closer to my limits. to this point i haven't found them; my whole life my mind and my will have limited me but in cycling i find myself free and open and without fear that i will fail. and not concerned with where i am going. so springtime will blossom and i will feel sad and wild and not know what i'm doing with myself but through it i'm going to keep my chain oiled and my tires filled and eat enough food and get enough sleep and not smoke cigarettes because i can't trust my heart but i'm learning to trust my will.