I’ve neglected this blog, and I’m not sure whether to keep neglecting it. I started it as a different kind of outlet than I had already created. I’ve met some nice online friends through it, and I still keep up with the blogs via blog reader.

I suppose I have decreased my need for an outlet. Partially because I have these other micro-places I record things in. Dailymile, where I record my (you might guess) daily miles on the bike. Momentile, where I post a daily photo, and which I enjoy because there is no chance for comments, mine or others. Lacking in context, it somehow frees me to take some crazy pictures, unworried as to whether anyone will “get” them. And when I take the uncrazy pictures, I also feel freed from expectations. I’m neither a photographer who takes only crazy pictures nor a photographer who doesn’t take crazy pictures. I’m simply exploring, and in a place with no context I feel freer to do so. And to stalk others who are participating in the life mosaic that is Momentile.

So I have these other outlets. I’m not sure whether to continue blogging here. I won’t take this blog down. What I’ve written and what others have written in response are enough for me to let continue. I know it has always disappointed me when others have shut down their blogs as well as stopped writing. I do like to be able to go back and read archives. Stop writing if you must, I’ve always felt, but please let me read the archived words!

It isn’t about me, though, and I do respect the need others feel to shut down their blogs when they are no longer putting their time into it.

I have continued to bike to and from work 4 times a week. I love it. My coworkers continue to be surprised when I ride in the rain, and express astonishment when I ride in the “cold” 55 degree mornings. Mornings which have me wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and short-fingered gloves. Cold? How quickly they forget.

I have worn through my first pair of brake pads, and met a fellow steel-lover when I took it to get new pads. He looked at my bike, caked in road grime that I’m too lazy and not well enough equipped to clean completely, and said “nice bike.” It could be said that he ogled my bike. I glanced at the sparkling bikes surrounding me, looking like dirt would not dare mar their shiny perfection, and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s a bit dirty.”

A few weeks ago I was at a stoplight, almost home, when another rider pulled up next to me. Unusual, but as he’d been chasing me up the giant hill near home, I knew he was there before he rolled up. “Miserable weather,” he commented. I glanced at the sky, at the drizzling world around me, and didn’t have anything to say.

I was on my bike, it seemed good to me.

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