this morning's power camp cycling coach made my day.  
it was about 5:50, nearing the end of class, when she began telling us a story about riding out in the middle of nowhere, all by herself.  she talked about how important her music was--love those ipods--and then she talked about stories she told herself and ways she keeps her mind occupied . . . and then she laughed and said,
I have fun in my head.

I immediately sat up taller, experiencing one of those cathartic moments of connection/validation/ah-ha-ness:  I, too, have fun in my head!
and at times I fear I'm the only one . . . now I know there's at least one other soul out there who does what I do.

I have fun in my head.
I make up stories, I ask questions of the universe.  I create mnemonics to help me remember things I want to write about.  I count things.  I think about all the things in the world I don't know the names of.  I answer questions that oprah asks me during my television interview.  I swoop and admire my own cornering.  I recite song lyrics, noticing just how many gaps in my memory of them exist.  I think about clouds; I laugh at myself.  I count some more, I make up a few more stories, and I plan my next food binge.
I
have fun
in
my
own  
head.

there is a circus in there, myriad characters battling for supremacy, dictators lecturing me, bystanders critiquing my appearance, my form, my thoughts.  there are constantly lists being created, thoughts being swirled, ideas marinating.  outcomes planned, activities rehearsed, humor being found.
and it's this last part, the humor, that keeps it bearable.  without the humor I would drown in the heaviness of what goes on in my head.  

so, thank God for humor, for lightheartedness, for silly jokes and the ability to laugh at oneself.  not only does it keep you sane on interminable bike rides in the middle of nowhere, it keeps you sane in this overwhelmingly complex and extraordinary thing we call life.

ps:  do you know what washes up on tiny beaches?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . microwaves.