small wheels.
during work days we roll out for food. always the same direction, somewhere into the center. vegan spot. usual route. no planning, just movement.
he rides ahead. smooth cruising setup, bigger wheels, less effort. me behind, constantly pushing, constantly catching up. always a few meters lost to physics.
52mm feels like a choice that never stops being a choice. every push counts more than it should.
tried smaller before. maybe 48. maybe something around that range. memory gets fuzzy there. could have been alien workshop, could have been something else. not sure. doesn’t really matter anymore.
it’s funny how the smallest things define the ride. not the destination. not even the route. just friction.
same place. same food. different physics.