In short...

Feel free to read along as they travel, adventure, and live. Watch as they grow together, move in together, cook together, farm together, and make waves in society through radical, enviromentally sustainable, and counter-cultural life choices. Pick up tips as they learn them themselves on how to engage the culture through theatre and performance art, clean cooking and recipes, and what it means to be queer kids in America (and elsewhere).

Saturday, May 24, 2014

The blog wherein Beckett falls off a bike...


May 23 night

I think I am dehydrated. Biking two hours in the sun today got pretty rough at the end there.

I pulled my bike over to the side of the trail where I had seen a water fountain. Holding my bottle up to the spigot, I licked my thickly swollen and sticky lips. Ohhh, water. Get in me. I held down the button. Nothing. I tried again. Not a drop emerged. I almost cried. No greater tragedy! Ohhhhh, the humanity!! It was at least another half hour until I hit Lake Calhoun where I had seen a fountain. I must push. The sun was hot on my neck and arms, and a layer of sweat made my t-shirt cling to my back. I looked longingly at the Mississippi River that lunged and rushed and swirled in its delightful wetness. Undrinkable…but I was definitely considering it. I must push. I must move forward. Ever forward. I pedaled away from the river, it’s gushing and tempting flow growing fainter with each push of the pedal.

I’m hungry. My stomach growled loudly. I should have eaten more today. As I continued down the trail, I felt my legs growing heavy and my head growing light. Whatever weight my brain had carried was now shifting into my thighs like lead blocks, and my head was left to float in dazed haziness.  It may have been too hot, and I may have been unprepared water-wise, and I probably went too far. But I wanted to see how far the trail went. I wanted to keep going and not think about how I would, eventually, have to turn around and bike that distance back home. We make our choices. And we must survive them. I could feel the drops of sweat drip down my back and calves. Headache was setting in.

Needless to say, I made it to the fountain. The lake never looked so inviting. Water from a public fountain never tasted so good. Sitting on my bike, water dribbling down my chin and onto my chest, I tried to push off again. Whoops. Head still way too light. I promptly fell over. Okaaaaay. Yeah. Not cool. I mustered as much grace as I could to climb back on. Did anybody see that? I think I caught it quick enough, right?

It’s a beautiful ride, honey. Takes us right down to the Mill City Farmers Market, and crosses the bridge to Aster CafĂ©. I want to take you there some weekend morning. We’ll just have to remember to take water ;)

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