In an effort to regain some level of fitness, the Boy and I have been mountain biking several times a week. E, of course, is already somewhat fit: youth and soccer see to that. I, however, have been reverting to a state that could only be described as fat slob. In fact, a couple of months ago, I got on the scale and saw that, for the first time in my life, I was close to 200 pounds. One sees all the internet ads suggesting that cardio workouts do little to help with weight loss, but I do know that eight or so years ago when I set a goal to cycle to work 100 of the 180 days, I lost significant weight relatively quickly. So we’re cycling more.

Today, I went on my own, though: the Boy was not in the mood, and since I want this to be something he enjoys, I didn’t force the issue. One benefit of going solo is that I get to listen to music as I ride; another benefit, I get to go faster. E can keep up with me for a handful of miles but eventually, he tires. That’s not to say I don’t tire. I just enjoy that pain and push through it (or at least I say I enjoy the pain). 

When I was riding on the gravel portion of the ride, I encountered this young one:

We used to see a lot of deer during our evening rides, sometimes a dozen or more. Lately, though, they’ve been scarce. I have no idea why they’re suddenly rare. The fact that they can live in the midst of a city is itself surprising. There are developments all around the Conestee mountain biking area; we see deer in our own neighborhood. It seems all they need a handful of trees and a water source.