It’s been a long winter. Not that we’ve had much snow. We haven’t. Which has made it worse in some ways. There were few opportunities for snowshoe excursions in the nearby woods, yet the local roads were still clotted with salt and grit, robbing cycling of much of its joy and leaving only the drudgery.* And my activity of last resort—fittingly christened the Nowhere Bike—is no substitute for the Real Thing. The upshot? My muscles are slack and putty-like.

But the Wheel of the Year is spinning round. And the open road is already calling me. Duty is once again conjoined with pleasure. Those doughy muscles will need some TLC, however, and Team Tamia can’t afford a soigneur. So I turn instead to The Stick. I’ve been giving my aching limbs The Stick for several years now, and I have to say it does the job. Which is a very good thing, as there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s going to get a workout in the next few weeks. Then again, so am I.

And who’s complaining? Certainly not me. Not now. It’s spring, and the world is puddle-wonderful. Can you hear what I hear? Unless I miss my guess, it’s the whistle of the goat-footed balloonMan.

*Yes, Virginia, I’m very sorry to have to disillusion you, but unless you live in a world devoid of hills, cycling involves a certain unavoidable amount of drudgery. But then, so do most things worth doing.

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Further Reading

• • “One Foot in the Grave? No Way! Aches and Pains? Get the Massage!”

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