This morning I bicycled to work. I did this once before. When I worked in Herald Square, I braved the treck wearing the wrong coat, carrying the wrong bag, sans a change of clothing, and wearing slippery soled shoes. That was a distance of 6 and a quarter miles, made longer by my desire to avoid Flatbush. When I'd finished, I had a sense of accomplishment, a very sore derrier, and very wet clothing. Also, I had not left myself enough time to shower before heading to the office.

Today's ride was different for numerous reasons. First of all, the trip was under 4 miles. Secondly, I got to ride over the Brooklyn Bridge instead of the Manhattan. There is nothing quite so rewarding for me. Roebling's erection, though no longer at the cutting edge of architechtural science, has something that none of the other East River crossings has: Majesty. One can't help but feel elated while walking, running, or riding under those great stone archways. The original connection between two of the United State's largest cities reminds me of a giant handshake or hug. Rising up out of Brooklyn and seeing the Manhattan skyline even higher above me - all framed by the impossibly blue sky - has made my day. Whatever happens now, I got to cross that bridge today.

I wore work out clothes and sneakers today, went to the gym and showered before I changed, and new exactly where to lock my bike up before going into the building, sort of. I hope they don't harass me at the garage when I go to pick it up.

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