It shouldn’t of course astonish me – though naturally it does – that my morning habits here in Canada or there in the United States of America are identical. For example within minutes of having arisen from the lair this morning and after having completed my ritual ablutions and trifling breakfast of sliced apple and cheddar morsels I yearned as always – wherever – to get onto my tricycle and pedal my way to Eternity. The air was clear and bright; a regular prospect for perpetuity and the perfect day for cycling about the neighbourhood. Nor was I disappointed in the shadowing of either my athletic or spiritual endeavours.
What made the lusty objective moderately unusual was that we were lunching at noon at the Barley Mow alongside the Mississippi River with my partner’s namesake nephew. And I was already dressed for the outing in freshly laundered clothes. In my exuberance – and no doubt in recognition of the spectacular atmosphere – I had opted too for a relic heavy sterling silver bracelet which I judiciously secreted beneath the cuff of my sweater (it’s the texture not the ostentation that counts). But at my age satorial accommodation of whatever seasoning is the least of the predictable hindrances to exercise. Accordingly I relentlessly pursued the ambition and cycled a Distance of 4.23 KM over a Workout Time of 37:55 (Elapsed Time of 48:17 because I dithered along the way) consuming Total Calories 137 CAL while maintaining an average speed of 6.7 KM/H and Avg. Heart Rate of 88 BPM. And, dear Reader, as further proof of my enterprise you can see from the photo below the circuitous route I took. The intelligence of these devices (Apple Watch and iPhone) is utterly remarkable; and were it not for the entertainment (and unwitting literary) value, passably disturbing but only in a weird existential way upon which I think you’ll as readily agree I needn’t dilate.
My recovery of indolence was speedy. Taking the trusty XT4 from the subterranean garage to the pub by the river, we were soon comfortably seated amidst a thriving congregation of Saturday aficionados who like us were devoted to the beguilement of the day and the pleasure of the weather which any Canadian would recognize was both refined and fugacious.
My partner’s nephew had business affairs in Town. We were asked whether we were available to foregather prior to the scheduled meeting. And so we were. The occasion afforded me an opportunity for the first time in a decade to wear pieces of my wardrobe reserved for a winter climate. This historically uncommon event thankfully proceeded without embarrassment; that is, my nasty erstwhile indulgences of carrot cake and butter tarts have lately been curtailed long enough to permit me to fit into the winter togs. It is all the same a small compliment. My winter apparel is not cut for a sylphlike figure. Nonetheless it pleases me to have on hand a varied collection of garb with which I am able to collaborate on a moment’s notice without having to descend to preliminary scourging or regret. The belt for example fits (albeit one of those stretchy types); and the shoes (though demonstrably bulkier than the deck shoes) are astonishingly comfortable (both made by SAS San Antonio Shoes purchased on-line from an outlet in Vancouver though initially discovered on Hilton Head Island, SC).
After another successful visit to the trough at Barley Mow (punctuated this time by the 8 mini-donuts for dessert) we shamefully retired to nearby Hummingbird Chocolate Maker to acquaint ourselves with their homemade sweets. Nor did we leave dissatisfied or unencumbered. Indeed, while not exactly lathered in sugar, we brought home with us a collection of the finest.
As well you might imagine, by this time I had sufficiently endured the defeat of appetite and passion. I was ready for atonement. A return to austerity and diminished plentitude. This meant only a car wash would suffice. Except for the inconsequence of a rash driver whom I successfully disturbed as much as he had annoyed me – I am not proud of that elaboration – the drive along the Appleton Side Road was as usual calming and beautiful. I then sailed up and down the ribbon of highway from Carleton Place to Stittsville and back all the while dodging the glaring sunshine in the western sky. The vacuum and wash were uneventful apart from the conclusion that Saturday afternoon on a beaming sunny day is not the most propitious time to do so. No matter. It was but an unnoticeable interruption of my untethered agenda. My morning ride was by all accounts complete!