My office is basically a large cubicle, and through force of habit, I tend to travel light.  I don’t like to have a lot of clutter, so there isn’t a lot of paper and folders lying about, and most of my personal belongings could fill two file boxes…so I’m outta here pretty quick if I ever get canned or promoted.

But behind my desk is another work surface with an adjoining “bulletin board” that serves as a credenza and is ideal for some pictures.  I have the typical family stuff that shows three great kids and a beautiful wife, a rowing pic from the past that shows my partner and I winning a pretty large event that no one expected; and a picture of my bike.  It’s that picture that’s the rub.

In moments of contemplation…or boredom, I catch myself swiveling my chair around and staring at it.  It’s not a stare of admiration – I’ve done enough of that, but rather; it’s a stare where I imagine myself somewhere else…on that bike.

I’m riding down a country road.  I’m camping.  I’m touring.  I might have a beard.  I’m looking for a stealth site.  I’m cooking some oatmeal.  I’m talking to a farmer who is asking questions about my trip.  I’m looking at a map.  I’m cranking up a hill.  It’s drizzling.  It’s sunny and warm.  I’ve stopped to take some pictures that no one else may ever see.  I’m sitting in front of a store munching on a granola bar.  I’m filtering water from a stream.  I’m washing out my socks.  I’m talking to someone about sleeping on their land for the night.  I’m crossing another state line.

I love that picture for what it represents, and sooner or later, I’m going to do all of those things.  I gradually come back to realty and return to focus on the work at hand; but still, the road beckons.


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