little pick-me-up

Friends know that there are people who are actively hallucinating and delusional who have more emotional stability right now than I do at my best times, so when The Excellent Wife (TEW) told me she thought I should get out for a ride with The Old Guys today, I went, even though I didn't wanna.

We took some days off this week, and for today, I didn't have anything planned. I've got exceptional amounts of mopiness going (not least because the last time I took time off, less than a year ago, I was fired shortly thereafter, based on stuff my then-supervisors and coworkers dug up in my absence).

That absence-leading-to-job-trouble thing was also a problem once decades ago, when I was working in a different industry. But one of the features of the anxiety disorder I have is that I never forget a misery. Another feature is that I jump to conclusions based on arguments that don't have anything to do with one another. I've worked in my current field for over thirty years; I've got a good reputation (except at my prior job); my boss (and HER boss) are impressed with me, and I've been working my donkey off on a new project. Rationally, I have nothing to worry about.

That doesn't stop me, of course.

So despite mopey mood and little sleep, I packed up the bike stuff and headed off to Etra for the Monday ride with Team Social Security (regular readers, and Princeton Freewheelers, will know about the older guys [they're mostly guys] who get together Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for club rides of about 30 miles). I got there early, of course, and met Al P, who gave me the glad hand and the welcome back, as did club president Ira S, and some other guys of whom I haven't seen enough recently.

Above, Joe M, who's got a very pretty new Soma San Marcos.

Above: Bill, about whom, more later.

Dan Z, above, is one of the club octogenarians.

We did this route. Nothing special; no great sights or hot speeds, but it just felt great to be out with these guys. In a few years, when I retire myself, I want to be among them.

We stopped at the Wawa. I got to talking to Bill (who listens way too closely to the jibber-jabber that falls out of my mouth) and found out he's a non-denominational chaplain on an oncology ward. He's a volunteer, so he sets his own schedule. It sounds like an ideal position; I'm envious. I hope to chat with him again soon.

We stopped for just long enough and came back. Al P was asking for takers on a post-ride ride, but I had chores (and another work thing to do to manage that anxiety), so I respectfully declined.

I'm not all better, but any means, but I'm some better. This is the kind of emotional clearing out that I hope for from a ride. And the good company makes the effect that much more effective.

So thanks to TEW for throwing me out of the house, and thanks to The Old Guys for letting me come along and for being so welcoming.