I got a report from Bike Church last night that enlightened me. In an attempt to circumnavigate our sometimes lake, Lake Jackson, those guys were flinging their bicycles onto the brush to trample down a path through the swampy fringe. Shins were laced with tiny cuts, like an emo kid’s arm, and the circles beneath the eyes spoke to the brink of dehydration, and yet the tone is euphoric, the smile- fulfilled.
If you are worrying too much about what is happening on the bike trails, you are doing it wrong.
A good Tallahassee area ride involves some cross-town urban assault, suburban orienteering, wasteland bushwhacking, and then maybe a little single track for dessert. Engineered trails are fun, but hopelessly artificial. They are to be enjoyed in moderation, like crystal meth, and nothing to build a habit around. Mazes are for gerbils.
Venture out, find some chiggers, bonk out and see spots. A good ride should make you whimper for home, a supplicant for deliverance, stronger.