Planning my next vacation. I’m thinking a West Coast tour is in order.

Sometimes I don’t know what my problem is.

If I did, I would try to fix it.

There would be a road map of how to go from point A to B.

Then, after fixing the problem, I would be fine.

I wish all problems were that easy.

There’s no putting my finger on it.

I’m just melancholy and my mind won’t stop.

Sleeping is useless.

I don’t know what’s wrong so I can’t run from it.

So I bike.

The darkness and quiet of the city at night offers much peace.

It starts with rolling my bike down my front steps.

Securing my lights.

Then one deep breath.

Swing the leg over, one foot on the pedal, the other balancing the ground.

The one swoosh and each stroke of the legs propel the bike faster.

I never thought my freedom would come in the form of a bike.

Escape is much easier when you can wear a tank top and shorts out.


I think the feeling of being in control yet liberated is what I like about biking at night.

I used to feel immune on my bike.

I have a need for speed, I like to cut corners, and weave through rush hour stop & go.

One day last fall, I was pretty much doing all three of these things and wiped out. Countless hours riding to and from school, work, and home…no issues. Then one time…

One failure took a lot of my fun out of biking…Now I have to be “careful.” Now I think about whether or not my pedal is going to hit another curb or the pavement, and send me down.

I think that’s maybe why I’m melancholy. I messed up  on several things in my life and now I’m afraid of doing it again, it hurting, or even worse…it ruining my fun.