I returned home from Spring Break this year to discover that my bike had essentially been stripped by thieves.  Well, that isn't entirely true.  It happened in two stages, and the first stage was probably the work of drunks rather than thieves.  This first stage took place several weeks ago, and was simply a matter of someone removing the seat.  He or she probably heaved it into the bushes somewhere and had a good laugh as he or she staggered onward into the night.  I was planning on going up to the bike store and getting it replaced upon the advent of consistently warm weather.  Anyway, this past week, as I was walking back up to my building, suitcase in hand, I couldn't help but notice that someone had absconded with my back wheel.  In the process of obtaining said back wheel, this individual had, out of malice or necessity, also bent the back half of the frame.  So now, when leaving my building each morning and returning each evening, I get to see the sad sight of my decrepit ride.  I should just unchain it and let someone steal the rest of it-the bike itself isn't worth the money it will take to restore it to functionality.  And so bike-shopping time is now upon me.

As you may know, I am a person whose thought processes operate through attenuated association.  Accordingly, you may not be entirely surprised to hear that the twisted wreck of my bike got me to thinking about inertia.  I've had a few mishaps on that bike.  You may recall my tale of getting hit by a truck last semester, for example.  Well, time was, before law school, I was a teacher of sorts in Ohio.  The place I was teaching was some 11 miles from my apartment (central Ohio is a land of godless sprawl), and because I like to do incomprehensible things, I would bike to work each day.  After my last day of work, I had just commenced the ride home, which involves going down a steep-ish hill before hanging a hard left onto the bike trail.  Feeling ambitious, invincible, and free, I flew down that hill faster than what I was accustomed to.  The result was predictable: I didn't quite make that hard right and instead smashed into a metal railing.  A passing truckload of hick landscapers whooped in delight and honked their horn; I thought about giving them a splendid gesture, but I was too busy inspecting my wound.  If you'd ever like to see the resultant shin scar, just ask.  The ensuing 11 mile bike ride was one of the more exhilarating of my life, owing to the absurd levels of adrenaline released by the collision.  I accidentally swallowed a fly, though, which blunted the overall experience somewhat.

A delightful story, to be sure, and one that would not have been possible without inertia.  Had the bodies in motion not tended to stay in motion, I probably could have avoided the collision.  As it was, the guard rail served to subject my constant velocity to a net external force.  And I came to rest.

Physical inertia, of course, isn't the only kind of inertia that is out there.  Returning from Spring Break, ruined bike or not, has decidedly been a study in attempting to overcome ambitional inertia (I wonder if that's a neologism.  I'll take credit if it is).  I find that a week of laying on the beach and drinking cheap piña coladas has sapped my will to do much of anything else.  I'm not proud; just honest.  My guess is that you know whereof I speak.  It is hard getting back in the game after taking a break.  But we don't really have any choice but to overcome our desire to remain at rest.  There's stuff to do.

There is a flip side, however.  We will probably all get moving again pretty soon here, if we haven't already done so, because we will be forced to get moving.  A more pressing problem: will you be able to slow down once you're hurtling down the hill of the second semester home stretch?  Granted, it is easy to procrastinate.  But it is also easy to let yourself get unnecessarily bogged down and stressed out.  And then all the questionable coping mechanisms and bad impulses burst forth in all their glory.  Hilarity ensues, regret follows, and before you know it you're peeling your battered, scarred self off of the guard rail and eating flies.

And thus, my advice: find some net external forces to (1) get your off of your ass, but (2) help you stave off the impending freak out/break down that late March and April otherwise hold.  Hint: "external" means "not law school."

Love always,

Terry