Dark

Thanks to the return of Western Standard Time, this evening was my first regularly-scheduled completely dark ride home from school this year. (Not that I haven’t pedaled home after sunset so far; it’s just that today was the initial instance of its being a standard feature of my daily commute).

I didn’t really mind it; there’s something satisfying about having to only make it as far forward as your light can shine, and if it wasn’t for being compelled to feel a little bit guilty by people coming the other direction who shielded their lights from me, I would have completely enjoyed the experience, especially since in the time it took me to get from about Lake Forest Park to the UW, the Pittsburgh Steelers had gone up on the hated Cincinnati Bungles 10-0 in the first quarter according to the Monday Night Football broadcast I was listening to on my transistor radio.

Before the game was over, though, a couple hours and some 10 or so miles later, they’d almost managed to blow a twenty point lead in the fourth quarter, prompting me to seriously question, as is my wont, why I even consider it enjoyable to pay attention to such meaningless and stupid phenomena as professional football and wonder whether I wouldn’t be a happier, more fulfilled, and indeed more respectable human being to give up the practice of paying attention to the sport altogether.

The amount of pleasure one takes in the success of the teams one roots for hardly seems to outweigh the annoyance one feels when they fail; plus, when you feel bad after “your” team loses, you also experience the cringe-worthy sentiment of noticing that you’re the sort of person who cares about such drivel.

I continue to blame this character flaw on my upbringing, but there probably comes a point when I should move on; not yet, though; it’s dark outside and my boys are tied for the division lead.