Continuing to make up for lost time on the bike this summer. Took advantage of the long weekend to cross a massive item off my list: making it to the lake.

Chicago has a magnificent Lakefront Trail that runs from 5800 North to 7100 South. All that was left to add that pavement to my available routes was about a mile of Armitage Avenue through Lincoln Park I hadn’t ridden yet.

My darling wife, who does not yet have a bike, met me in the park and grabbed a Divvy so we could ride down to the planetarium together. Perfect little loop with a stop for ice cream. Best city in the world.

And just like that: off again to Toronto again for work. This visit’s select seltzer flavors: mangosteen; black cherry; yuzu blossom and pomelo. Unserious country. Bless them.

This trip was accidentally scheduled at the same time as the Toronto International Film Festival, which would usually have been a cool confluence of my interests, but in this case just meant that all the halfway convenient hotels were out of policy and I had to spend my last night back out at the airport.

Which worked out more or less fine, given that I had a Friday meeting that ran from 10 a.m. until well after midnight, so a quick cab ride back to YYZ and a couple hours at the airport Sheraton to set the tone for an extremely delirious trip back to the US, where I was glad to find a Chicago not yet occupied by the National Guard and weather still nice enough for another long bike ride.

I think part of me is just trying to get as much riding in as I can before the various shoes start dropping. Both airports, the office, and everyone at home are coughing and wheezing with whatever not-COVID is currently going around. Meanwhile, the pools are closing and the summer is winding down. Double meanwhile, we’re all pretending my beautiful city is a crime-ridden war zone desperately in need of occupation.

Illness looms. Winter looms. Jackboots loom. Damned if I’m not going to enjoy it while I still can.