Amigos y amigas, I hate to break it to you, but I lead a charmed life. New England’s a forgotten treasure, my job is out-freakin’-standing and challenging, and, most importantly, my wife is absolutely amazing.
I’ve got a confession to make – I blew off biking this afternoon, as work somewhat interfered. But, I did spend some quality time watching a trout stream on the way home. There’s something mesmerizing about a trout stream in the spring – water in constant motion, mayflies hatching, and the subtle, nearly imperceptible rings left from the rise.
The spot I stopped was at a dam that dated to the mid-1700s, flanked by the foundations of two abandoned mills. The water flowing over the dam was tea-colored, stained with the tannin of acres of fallen leaves, clear and cold. Amazing. I dusted off my fly rod this evening.
Anyway, I made it home slightly earlier than normal. Supper was good, and as we were finishing up, Missy reminded me that Tuesday’s a great night to swim. (See how lucky I am?)
So, I tucked the kids in and headed to the Y.
Next to no-one in the pool. 1,000 yards – first time I’ve hit four digits in over a year (I think). Swimming felt good. I can’t quite pin it down, but maybe it’s a side-effect of riding the mountain bike and working the upper body?
Little snack of dried berries and chocolate chips when I got home, and time to hit the rack.