I got rid of the compact that came on my bike and headed out for a spin this afternoon. Visions of grandeur were within my mind. I mean a bike like that needs to be ridden. Right? It was 1:30 when I stepped out the door. The last week here in S.G. has been considerably cold but we were peaking around 50 today. First mistake, I wore a longsleeve base layer with a jersey on top and my knickers. The temperature was perfect and things felt good. When I peaked onto the Hurricane Highway I was feeling great so I decided to do the Tour loop backwards. Things were going excellent. This bike is damn smooth and its lack of heft definitely helped me out today. Once I turned onto the Sand Hollow road, I realized I was hungry. No problem I brought along a granola bar. Actually there was a big problem I still had a long ways to go. My tiny snack held me over for about ten minutes. Then the cold hit. As the sun started to dip my apparel became a serious problem. By the time I made it back to Telegraph, I was delirious from hunger and frozen stiff. It took me at least an hour to ride through the fields and then another hour to finally warm up and feel like I could move. Getting my key out of my jersey pocket proved to be nearly fatal. Perched on my Speedplay cleats I was teatering like a drunk and my fingers were not cooperating at all. Anyway’s that was my ride. It was awesome but it also kicked my ass. Note to self: next time dress appropriately and take food you hypoglycemic idiot.

Well, I get to try again tomorrow. ProZac and I are going to ride the goose. It’s supposed to be a bit chilly, I’ll report on my stupidity. Which brings me to the broken bastards I work with. For a bike shop you would think there would be a lot of pedaling going on. Out of the four of us, half the population is undergoing some sort of something that impedes bicycle riding. Father York has grown an inch since they started stretching him. Soon he will be riding a 56. Soon….

Peace. Love. and Revolution.