If you’ve read my rantings with any relative regularity you probably know that I am infinitely capable of tossing out ultimatums with reckless sincere abandon and then immediately or shortly thereafter fail to follow through.

Such was the case yesterday after getting stuck in the residual traffic due to the fatal accident  nearby on the 405 Freeway, averaging less than 3 mph over the remaining 1.5 miles to work. I vowed to make my bike my primary option not twice or three times a week but every freakin’ day.

Then Susan and I were up late last night carving pumpkins and making final preparations with our outdoor and indoor Halloween decor, spooky sounds and a not-simple lighting scheme (let’s not forget the dual fog machines!), and though I rolled outta bed at about 5:30 a.m. as usual, intent on getting a mighty move on, I soon found myself losing steam and oh-welling and rationalizing that maybe I should give my lungs one more day to recover and came *this* close to resigning myself to being a loser and driving in today.

Then I manned-up, got showered and shaved and the morning chores outta the way and hell yeah now I’m ready to get my bike on! And it’s funny, for as reticent or lazyassed as I can be, I know the moment my butt hits the saddle and I’m pedaling there isn’t any other way I’d want to get from points A to B — and if the commute that was sooooo hellacious yesterday is back to normal today? Who cares.