These past couple of days have been so hot that my post-El appearance has been straight up embarrassing.
So much sweating.
Not a pretty sight.
This morning, CJ and I decided we could get a bike ride in if we just planned it early enough.
We met at 6:00 am.
It wasn’t early enough.
It was oppressively hot, but the lake was looking pretty beautiful, and the city was just waking up, so it was worth the ride.
Then, I nearly died.
And not of the heat.
I came careening into an intersection (I’m still not really sure why, maybe I couldn’t stop in time, maybe I wasn’t checking traffic carefully enough), and I was about one millimeter from slamming myself into a moving car.
In some form of divine intervention, I slammed on my brakes, missed the car, and then made it across the rest of the intersection.
CJ followed me, asking what happened, and noting that she had screamed out my name in concern (which somehow I didn’t hear) while I sped towards my hypothetical death.
Look both ways, chickadees.
That’s my advice this morning.
I made it back home in one piece, and decided I wouldn’t tell JW about this incident, since it would only worry him and lead him to believe I was an incompetent bike rider (which I promise, I am not. I follow the Rules of the Road). I caught him walking out of our building as I was putting away my bike.
He said hi.
“I almost died,” I blurted.
I’ve never been much of a secret keeper.
But I always wear my helmet.