An intended spin around the block on the Psurly turned into a 90 minute bike path, road, and gravel fest. The legs are starting to feel the direct drive love, and by return trip accelerating and decelerating flowed well. On one flat stretch of gravel I had a 5 minute no-chain moment; the pedals were turning over by themselves, my feet just tried to not get in the way.

A sharp and nasty counterpoint to the massacre at Virginia Tech. It’s very difficult to watch the media try to digest such events on behalf of the nation, though right now The News Hour is doing a pretty good job of it. Demonstrating that it is indeed a small world, my college ex-girlfriend Rebecca, a Blacksburg native, is currently going there for grad school. I found that out when she said she was safe, but it makes things substantially more immediate. My cousin Dale went to undergrad there, albeit a decade or more ago.

This morning I sat at work eating yogurt, listening to a student talk about her mom dying of cancer. Her mom the drug addict, who abandoned her years ago. She learned it from her brother, who learned it from her sister, to whom her mom spoke out of the blue.

“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” -Wittgenstein