Mondays

The previous entry was written in the dark of night. I went on a 22-mile ride later that day.

As Heinlein is frequently quoted, "there's no such thing as a free lunch," and I paid for the ride by losing Sunday. Saturday after the ride, I felt great. Tired was to be expected but I was good from the accomplishment and pretty inwardly pleased.

I didn't wake up at all on Sunday and drifted from minute to minute. Looking back now, I should have had breakfast and gone back to bed but it was Father's Day, a Hallmark Holiday I don't enjoy nowadays and a day my daughters traditionally treat as an afterthought (proof: compare and contrast to Mother's Day). So I tried to deal with that as a zombie would: lurched into it. Not much success there.

The Saturday was great, though. It was a glorious Spring day and I was thankful to be mobile enough to get out into it. There were the usual aches and pains, and my new eternal nemesis, The Wind, was blowing hard even at 10:30 but this enemy is best ignored with a lower gear and fiercesome determination. In all, two hours on the bike. I can still feel it.

Stream of consciousness: lots of thoughts during the ride that, for the most part, centered on the ride and the feeling of being outside on a good day. No complaints.

Word of the ride: muscular.