I checked the air pressure in the tires. A little low, so out came the pump. The sun drenched my body with warm light as I added compressed air. Above my head, a stately old elm tree was beginning to leaf out. The breeze was gentle and carried the faint scent of rebirth, the kind of aroma exclusive to springtime. A car drove by at a leisurely pace, the top down and the occupants smiling. A glorious Minnesota day.

The gauge indicated 110 psi, a reasonable value for the situation. With the pump back in the garage, I was ready to go. After days of setbacks, it was finally time to set out.

I put my right foot on the right pedal and likewise for my left. The cleats snapped into place as I began spinning my legs. As the wind rushed by my ears, I found my cadence. I tapped the shifter and heard the rear derailleur move the chain to the next smaller sprocket. The houses lining the road flew by.

I glanced at myself in the mirror just before I left. If nothing else, I looked the part of the road biker. I must admit that I initially felt silly being out in public in such a getup, but those concerns melted away once I got on the bike. On the bike, I fit in with the other bikers. On the bike, I would have looked foolish dressed any other way.

My LeMond Tourmalet proved a trusty steed as I ate up the miles. It was last year’s model, new but being closed out at a significant discount by Penn Cycle. It’s a high-tech piece of machinery made of aluminum and carbon fiber. Quite a step up from my childhood mountain bikes.

I’d wanted a nice road bike ever since I borrowed one for the triathlon in 2004. I would research bikes but could never muster the will to buy one. After realizing how long I’d gone without riding, I finally decided to take the plunge. I’m glad I did.

Up and down my legs went, and round and round the wheels spun. Every so often, I encountered a group of riders at a stop light, and we would ride together for a while until our paths diverged. I made my way along Summit Avenue in St. Paul, a wide boulevard lined with stately mansions from the early 20th century. Bike lanes are marked on the street, which terminates at a paved regional trail that follows the Mississippi. It’s a beautiful ride.

Eventually, I navigated back home, my mind blessed with the clarity that exercise brings. I had fun, and I wanted more. It was a good return to the word of bicycles.

I just realized that it’s been two years since I last rode a bicycle and four years since I last rode a motorcycle.* Where does the time go?

* But that’s no longer true…

I was lucky enough to read quite a few really good articles today, most of which appeared in traditional print media. They dealt with medical technology, Java on embedded devices, business litigation, and a host of other topics. However, the one that really stuck out was in a blog: The story of Pizza Man and Flipper Boy.

I was watching CSPAN the other day (oh, the humanity!) while they were broadcasting some guy addressing some sort of convention. The guy was talking about how the income/wealth gap between the rich and the poor in America keeps getting wider. All of a sudden, he said something that really struck me: “The rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer because the rich keep doing whatever made them rich, and the poor keep doing whatever made them poor.”

Rather simplistic, but there’s probably some truth in that rather blunt statement.

My company reports increased earnings. Its stock price goes down. We release a revolutionary new product. The stock price goes down. We win a patent lawsuit. The stock price? Down. An analyst reaffirms his “overweight” rating (that’s good). Guess what happens to the stock price. Yeah, it goes down.

Stupid stock market…