Everything is Suffering

I bought a bike about a month ago, and the first week was a ton of fun. I was just destroying Managua, unstoppalbe, as I flew throgh the rotundas and weaved amongst the clusters of taxis and schoool buses. I could finally explore Managua at my liesure while avoiding the oppressing bustle of the buses, which are probably the closest the human experience comes to being packed like sardines in a crushed tin box (olfactory included). La Rotunda Periodista is a nice spot along my commute

The barrels of fun aspect mostly desribes my 4 mile commute to the denser Managua which is entirely downhill. This section is a busy highway and I usually keep pace with traffic (I say again, it makes me smile and laugh). Once my ruts were established on the fareways of Southern Managua, the forces of the Managua began to bear in on me. The mamouth buses and semis zoom witihin inches of my bars as I navigate the cracks and potholes of my gutter track. Between sunrise (5am) and midday the sun has plenty of time to heat Managua to a toasty 33 degrees C (early 90s F). The rain comes everyday and converts the dustry streets to grime, which is inevitably flug from all ways onto on sides of my body. And the sweat pushes back against the mud and heat, rendering my clothes a tight and sticky skin pulling back at my every movement. And, of course, gravity always makes one pay for several minutes of fun with at least an hour of arduous work. (This is true for all activities except for jumping on trampolines.) This part, the arduous work part, is hardest part to keep a cool head. The hill is slower and therefore hotter, the exhaust is more potent here and lingers longer, the pride I built up zooming by cars on my way down is deflating as quickly and as the truck roar by me. Here´s the everything is suffering part. But don´t fret. I have learned that riding my bike part time keeps it exciting and raises my tolerance. Also focusing on my breathing helps. Peace out friends.