I’m quite tired. I have noticed that this makes my moods more fragile. Not much I can do about it, really. 7pm is a bit early for bed. Funny how you never know what little things will affect you. How not being invited to do something you didn’t even want to do can make you sad and lonely. Because it is evidence that Things Are Different Now. No way to get to the other side ‘cept through it.

I went mountain biking again today. It was much better. I walked fewer sections, managed more technical parts, didn’t run out of water, didn’t feel like throwing up at any point, kept my energy longer, and the seat didn’t cause quite so much agony. I did fall, and took out a tree on the way down. Fortunately it was already dead. A few little bruises, a few little scrapes. More damaging is that I cancelled other plans to go biking, because I really wanted to go. I knew at the time it wasn’t really fair, but I did it anyway. I thought more about it later on, and the more complex implications of cancelling plans with that particular person to make plans with that particular person. It was a bad idea. It wasn’t a decision meant to have such implications, I just really wanted to go biking. But I made it, and I have apologized. Being perfectly honest with myself, the shame of my actions lies on two fronts, both in cancelling the plans with that friend, and in the fact that, just maybe, there was an element of alternative motive in my actions. He might have just spent the weekend with her, but today he’s going to be with me. It’s hard to admit weakness. Stupidity. That you’re not always doing as well as you’d like to. Even worse when you make it affect your friends. One step forward, two steps back.

I wore bike shorts today to go biking. I bought them years ago in Sydney, grey workout shorts. I don’t wear them to the gym. I mostly wear them under skirts and things if I’m not wearing stockings. I am not svelte, and my legs have always been my worst feature. I was born with short, fat, tree trunk legs with freakishly wide, flat feet attached, and they’ve never changed. I don’t wear short skirts, or tight pants, and they’re one of the reasons I hate bathing suits. The only time I’ve had any particular enjoyment relating to my particular legs was when I was taking martial arts and realized how strong they are. I can pretty much kick through a brick wall. Unfortunately, I don’t take martial arts anymore, and I don’t have a lot of opportunities to kick walls down. I was not entirely comfortable wearing the shorts to go biking, but once we got out there I didn’t really care. They are better than other clothes. I only particularly started caring today when the inseam started to tear. By the time we got back to the parking lot, the tear was several inches long and I’d started developing a rather painful rash from my thigh rubbing the seat, and then rubbing the other thigh. Should be okay by tomorrow. Amusingly, when I wanted to change, I really didn’t care if I went to the porta-potty or not (in fact, I preferred not to), so I changed in the parking lot, in front of the birds and the trees and anyone else who was around. So there I stood in sports bra and undies, considerably less to my ensemble than a big t-shirt and bike shorts. The wind felt amazing on my sweaty, overheated skin. There’s so much more experience out there when you stop caring about certain thing.

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