Ok, ate too much at Christmas, felt sluggish and unmotivated for the training ride, but, the little tags with the names on it hanging on my handle bars moves me to action. I can goof off, I can lay around, I can avoid the pain the miles bring to my arthritic neck, my creaky knees, my underhydrated muscles. They can't.
I do the ride. It's cold, it's windy, I am a wimp. 34.97 miles, 2:38:04:08
Yesterday, I'm under the gun, time wise. Up at 5:30, read the news, hat up, head out.
3.24 miles in the Brits, 35:23:51
What's gonna kill me? I notice a Civic two lanes over from me slide to a halt 1/4 into the intersection on a red. Makes me wonder what the driver was up to. I ride next to him to the next stop.
Oh, breakfast on a plate. Probably didn't notice the yellow or the red on the last light for having to fork a hunk of sausage into his maw.
Bother.
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