It's not about the bike...it's about the hair. But you already know that, as I go on endlessly (and some would say annoyingly) about it. In the event that you live farther than 75 miles of my house--and therefore cannot hear me every morning at 6:30a.m., sobbing and spewing profanities in front of the mirror as I wield a giant round brush, a 2000-horse power blow dryer, a pricy flat iron and four different hair potions in a harried rush to get my chemo curls (only kind of) under control before racing out the door to work--here’s a hair update: It absolutely defies the laws of gravity.
Most people don’t believe me when I tell them my hair grew back in a fro. Ergo, the faux-finish fro foto. I’m not quite ready to debut the fro without the help of Apple’s Photo Booth effects. And Ocho was kind enough to join in the foto fun.
I don’t have a good transition for this, as it has nothing to do with my hair, but I rode my mountain bike up Mount Montara with Ocho today. The bike trail is the old coast road that used to connect San Francisco to Half Moon Bay. It’s no longer the coast road, and hasn’t been for years, because it collapsed in places. It must have been a dicey drive, as I passed a rusted, abandoned car along the side of the trail.
I’ve attempted the trail a dozen times, and usually have to stop because I heat up like a radiator and my heart begins to race like a turbo-charged engine. Today, however, it was foggy and cool, and Ocho was respectful of my silence and my Dalai Lama-like focus. I decided not to look up the road, as it was maddeningly steep and there is always another incline after each difficult turn. So, I played a little game with myself. I refused to look ahead. I focused only on the dirt and rocks and ancient pavement directly in front of me. And it worked.
I’d like to create a cool metaphor for life out of today’s bike ride, but I’m whooped. Besides, you all know it’s not about the bike (even though it’s a totally sick Specialist Stump Jumper that Ocho got me as a surprise last summer). It was about the bike for two hours. But in 20 minutes, I’m going to get ready for tonight’s dinner and a movie with Ocho. And you know for a fact that as I pull out the hair gear, I will have completely forgotten about my big accomplishment and will be focusing on my big hair. Again.