Part 1: From the brownstone floors of the Upper West Side, Manhattan.
I cleaned my apartment until 2am. I cleared paper like brush, scrubbed the basin of mildew and water spots, swept under a bed where I had not swept for a very long time -- and still there was dust, and still there were chores undone.
I leave and lock, knowing some parts of my life are always undone while I live it.
Part 2: From the gymnasium floor of the Boys and Girls Club In Everett.
40 of the crew sleep in the gym like middle school summer campers. There are ladies conversing in French in corner, a man with apnea taking in oxygen, another with the largest air mattress I have ever seen, and still another who sleeps in his cycling shorts. I imagine he'll wake with his shoes on and just clip on a go. It's 9:45pm and its lights out.
Tomorrow we will ride 64 miles, the greatest part of which will be east. But first we will ride west for 8 miles -- to the coast -- to dip the back wheel of our bikes into the pacific. Peaceable: It's in the name of those waters and reminds me so often of how anyone must make my way in the world. This summer I ride against bullying -- and the west coast waters remind me to go forward gentle and steady -- they remind me how often I do not, like so many angry, outraged, vengeful. Tomorrow I anoint my back tire in Pacific Waters.
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