In the ancient, earth-based religions, May 1st was a very significant moment in the turning of the calendar. Called Beltaine by some traditions, it's a cross-quarter day, occurring half-way between the start of two seasons, and in those days, it marked the beginning of farmable weather, supremely significant in that deeply agrarian time. Celebrations got raucous and lusty, involving food, spirits, and running ribbons around a Maypole (phallic symbol, anyone?). Christians later morphed the celebration into May Day, the name more familiar to us Post-post-moderns.
Currently in Velophoriaville, it's a supernal spring morning. Sun-kissed, dewy, and chilly, but with a promise of warmth later on. Delicate white violets are scattered like confetti on the front lawn, and new greenness is everywhere, banishing memories of the long, hard winter. The steam rises from a mug of freshly-brewed coffee nearby. And I'm prepping for a dirt/gravel adventure.
One weekday morning last month, I turned off my usual road to work, Route 9, which blessedly runs through the Quabbin Reservoir nature reservation, a gigantic swath of woods and water in Central Massachusetts. I'd always been curious about a certain little side road on the Western edge of the town of Ware. Not least alluring is the name of the road: Enoch Sanford. (Who...?) The paved part runs down a beauteous part of the small, picturesque Swift River, and then ends quickly at a dirt turnaround; however, right there some double-track runs off into the woods.
I made inquiries with a local about that double-track one morning this week before work, and learned that it runs at least four or five miles, and is supposed to be pretty. Google maps more or less confirms this, and says it is part of the Swift River Wildlife Management Area. However, most of the satellite view of the road is hidden in trees (promising...!) so the precise truth is unclear. I have a Salsa Vaya now, and discovering the exact truth down a stretch of disused double-track is just exactly what it was made for ("...designed to take on any surface that someone might consider a ‘road’," the company says on their site). Hand-crafted steel and 35 mm tires will pave the way -- so to speak.
I have an additional reason to ride in the woods today. I received some very challenging news about my father's health yesterday. I'm 47, and he's 77, so it doesn't come as a total surprise, but you're never fully ready to get that call. He's my Old Man, you know? He's going to live forever. Anyway, this means it's time for some serious nature therapy, and my prescription is to ride deep into the woods, on a new bike, on an old road, by a pretty little river.
How are you going to celebrate Beltaine, a day of passing and of rebirth? I'm going to find out what's down the double-track at the end of Enoch Sanford Road. Email me quick if you want to come along.
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Spring Has Sprung and so has my Knee
Ah, spring -- when a middle-aged man's fancy turns to thoughts of old injuries.
It's becoming increasingly apparent that every spring is going to involve what Paul Fournel calls (and I'm paraphrasing here), "a revival of an old argument with a cantankerous knee." I successfully tried running through the whole winter at base/moderate levels, my cardiovascular capacity climbing while my legs retained some of their strength from last cycling season. But, for the fourth year in a row, once we hit March and April and I start adding intervals and hills, my left kneecap starts getting that lovely mortar-and-pestle feeling.
By now, fortunately, I know not to panic. Mostly.
If I stretch a lot, increase intensity slowly, and in the meantime just accept the aches and pains of an aging human body, I'll probably be strong and fit by May. (We'll see; moderation is still not my strong suit.) Even so, every year, it's a little annoying and worrisome.
Ah, the rites of spring.
It's becoming increasingly apparent that every spring is going to involve what Paul Fournel calls (and I'm paraphrasing here), "a revival of an old argument with a cantankerous knee." I successfully tried running through the whole winter at base/moderate levels, my cardiovascular capacity climbing while my legs retained some of their strength from last cycling season. But, for the fourth year in a row, once we hit March and April and I start adding intervals and hills, my left kneecap starts getting that lovely mortar-and-pestle feeling.
By now, fortunately, I know not to panic. Mostly.
If I stretch a lot, increase intensity slowly, and in the meantime just accept the aches and pains of an aging human body, I'll probably be strong and fit by May. (We'll see; moderation is still not my strong suit.) Even so, every year, it's a little annoying and worrisome.
Ah, the rites of spring.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Falls Road Rondo
Sunday morning. As my second cup of coffee cools, and a Flemish announcer murmurs sweet Gent-Wevelgam nothings in my tiny computer speakers, I sit reminiscing on a somewhat Belgian ride yesterday with Racer Rob.
We set out from his house in Sunderland under clear blue skies, with temps in the mid-30s, and the stiff, relentless March winds off the Connecticut River soon made clear what the deal was going to be. We turned off the main road and wended our way up rolling hills that only partially protected us from the gale. Fields folding upon fields, fences and old farmhouses stretching in the sun after a long, hard winter, we climbed a steady ten minutes, and were rewarded with views of humpy northern Mass, with the river peeking in and out of the picture, too.
(Wow -- heroic finish to Gent-Wevelgam!)
Down and around the hummocks we flew, a peloton of two, chattering away about tire sizes, vacation plans, and job changes. When we hit the flats, another reward: a brisk tailwind, which always makes me feel fitter and faster than I am. (Have you ever noticed how risky it is to sit up no-hands in a tailwind? The wind shifts imperceptibly, and it's like someone yanked on one side of your bars. The hands go back on real fast.)
South on Falls Road, and one more reward:
With the river riding high on the banks directly behind us, we took a quick couple shots of the falls and a hit or two of H2O. Never seen the falls this full before; I guess record snowfalls have their upside.
Home stretch. Rob always picks up the pace right around now, and even when early-season unfit, he's absurdly fitter than myself. I internally set a realistic goal: Just stick to his wheel up the half-mile five-percenter that leads to his driveway. Before I know it, he's getting smaller and smaller, and my thighs feel like running lava. It always ends this way; I wouldn't have it any other way.
By the time we roll up to his door, we're finally warm. The final reward? Five minutes with Rob's adorable boys, one running around playing fireman, and the other in his lovely mama's arms, giving me the heart-melting darshan like the Buddha he is.
We set out from his house in Sunderland under clear blue skies, with temps in the mid-30s, and the stiff, relentless March winds off the Connecticut River soon made clear what the deal was going to be. We turned off the main road and wended our way up rolling hills that only partially protected us from the gale. Fields folding upon fields, fences and old farmhouses stretching in the sun after a long, hard winter, we climbed a steady ten minutes, and were rewarded with views of humpy northern Mass, with the river peeking in and out of the picture, too.
(Wow -- heroic finish to Gent-Wevelgam!)
Down and around the hummocks we flew, a peloton of two, chattering away about tire sizes, vacation plans, and job changes. When we hit the flats, another reward: a brisk tailwind, which always makes me feel fitter and faster than I am. (Have you ever noticed how risky it is to sit up no-hands in a tailwind? The wind shifts imperceptibly, and it's like someone yanked on one side of your bars. The hands go back on real fast.)
South on Falls Road, and one more reward:
 |
| The eponymous feature of Falls Road |
Home stretch. Rob always picks up the pace right around now, and even when early-season unfit, he's absurdly fitter than myself. I internally set a realistic goal: Just stick to his wheel up the half-mile five-percenter that leads to his driveway. Before I know it, he's getting smaller and smaller, and my thighs feel like running lava. It always ends this way; I wouldn't have it any other way.
By the time we roll up to his door, we're finally warm. The final reward? Five minutes with Rob's adorable boys, one running around playing fireman, and the other in his lovely mama's arms, giving me the heart-melting darshan like the Buddha he is.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Leg Leavening
Heavy legs. Is there a more evocative expression in the athlete's lexicon? I knew I'd be suffering from that malady today, so I tried, for the tenth time or so, to use embrocation as a remedy. I'm happy to report I finally succeeded.
A year ago, lured by the wonderful aroma, attractive packaging (sadly, recently changed) and, of course, the tradition and ritual, I purchased a jar of Mad Alchemy's Mellow Heat blend. Since I have only used it under tights or warmers, which increases the heat factor, it turned out to be anything but mellow. There followed many an antic caper involving hopping about in my kitchen post-ride, whimpering in pain.
One lesson learned the hard way: Dish soap is the best way to remove embrocation quickly, thoroughly and painlessly.
After a few experiments, I think I've finally hit on what to do if your embro is too hot. The answer is embarrassingly obvious: Vaseline. (Take it easy there, guys; I'll be filtering for inappropriate comments.) I first applied a goodly layer of it this morning, rubbing down the muscles and connective tissue just as I would with embro. (I love this part, like a combination massage and supercharge.) Once I had a sheen going, I dipped into the Mad Alchemy and layered that on, rubbing it in just as well.
Results were very pleasing.
I wore lighter tights today, allowing the heavy winds to penetrate a bit in order to lighten up on the friction factor, and also to test the brew a bit more than I have. I felt the breeze on my legs, but, even in the beginning, they didn't feel nearly as cold as they would have without the balm. As I warmed up, of course, the heat factor rose a bit, and the legs felt even better. Nevertheless, I was, as predicted, feeling sluggish and uninspired by about halfway through. All of a sudden, at about 70% of the way, I felt that "tropical breeze" sensation that I've read about waft across my pins. My speed picked up oddly, and the realization came over me that I had an extra half-hour in me that simply hadn't been there 10 minutes before. It was like discovering an extra gas tank. What a treat! Certainly good enough to keep trying the stuff.
There are still variables to conquer: Learning at what temps I can ride bare-legged, how to manage the effects of the sun on embrocated legs (under tights, it's like turning the dial to Broil) and what the effects are over long rides. I look forward to these experiments.
As a little bonus, I sit now before the laptop, in a chilly house, wearing only a baselayer above and bike shorts below, and feeling the most cozy warmth emanate from the gams. You just can't beat it; it's like someone lit a toasty blaze in the fireplace.
Let me know your experiences with embrocation.
A year ago, lured by the wonderful aroma, attractive packaging (sadly, recently changed) and, of course, the tradition and ritual, I purchased a jar of Mad Alchemy's Mellow Heat blend. Since I have only used it under tights or warmers, which increases the heat factor, it turned out to be anything but mellow. There followed many an antic caper involving hopping about in my kitchen post-ride, whimpering in pain.
One lesson learned the hard way: Dish soap is the best way to remove embrocation quickly, thoroughly and painlessly.
After a few experiments, I think I've finally hit on what to do if your embro is too hot. The answer is embarrassingly obvious: Vaseline. (Take it easy there, guys; I'll be filtering for inappropriate comments.) I first applied a goodly layer of it this morning, rubbing down the muscles and connective tissue just as I would with embro. (I love this part, like a combination massage and supercharge.) Once I had a sheen going, I dipped into the Mad Alchemy and layered that on, rubbing it in just as well.
Results were very pleasing.
I wore lighter tights today, allowing the heavy winds to penetrate a bit in order to lighten up on the friction factor, and also to test the brew a bit more than I have. I felt the breeze on my legs, but, even in the beginning, they didn't feel nearly as cold as they would have without the balm. As I warmed up, of course, the heat factor rose a bit, and the legs felt even better. Nevertheless, I was, as predicted, feeling sluggish and uninspired by about halfway through. All of a sudden, at about 70% of the way, I felt that "tropical breeze" sensation that I've read about waft across my pins. My speed picked up oddly, and the realization came over me that I had an extra half-hour in me that simply hadn't been there 10 minutes before. It was like discovering an extra gas tank. What a treat! Certainly good enough to keep trying the stuff.
There are still variables to conquer: Learning at what temps I can ride bare-legged, how to manage the effects of the sun on embrocated legs (under tights, it's like turning the dial to Broil) and what the effects are over long rides. I look forward to these experiments.
As a little bonus, I sit now before the laptop, in a chilly house, wearing only a baselayer above and bike shorts below, and feeling the most cozy warmth emanate from the gams. You just can't beat it; it's like someone lit a toasty blaze in the fireplace.
Let me know your experiences with embrocation.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Spring Buy
Avid cyclists know that, after seeing robins pulling worms out of the ground, or that first bare patch of lawn in two or three months, the most welcome harbinger of spring is the bike buy. Make a list, check it twice: New bar tape? New tools for the shop? Maybe a whole new ride?
Here are the newest members of my team, researched for days and just ordered this afternoon:
1) Specialized Borough CX Pro: I've been intending to upgrade my second bike -- a humble but sturdy Giant OCR 3 -- into a "snow/rain/commuter/dirt road/hardpacked trail" bike for some time now. These tires will be the first step. I'm now looking forward to the next slush storm, to climbing up some of the fabled dirt-road hills around here, and to generally messing about a lot more on my bike this season. 32 millimeters of cushy rubber to smooth out those spring potholes; relatively smooth center for a faster ride to the dirt via the pavement; and then a dash of knobby-ness on the shoulders for biting into turns during those scary-fast gravel descents. Ooooh, yeah... fun city.
2) Spin Doctor Pro G3 Work Stand: It's simple -- I've had enough squatting on 47-year-old knees. I'll work on my bike more, and more efficiently, if it's comfortable, stable and stylish.
3) Diadora X-Country MTB shoes: With the help of my friend, No One Line (thanks for the advice and the cleats, d00d!) I've gotten up the guts to switch to MTB pedals and shoes for all but the fastest of rides this year. I'm a born-and-bred road guy, so why would I pay good money for (gasp!) heavier shoes? A few reasons: a) See above. I'm going to be off-road more this year, even if on a road bike, so I want to be able to put my foot down and get actual support out of it. b) For 30 years now, I've been slipping and sliding down convenience store aisles from New England to Nothern California on my road cleats, and now I'd like to try actual walking. (I'll miss the uncomfortable stares, though...). c) One more concise and compelling reason: Double-sided entry. Fewer dangerous pauses trying to get started at a green light, or back in the pedal after putting a stabilizing foot down on the dirt.
If I've managed to get you interested while writing about a shoe, a bike stand and a tire, you're either a hopeless bike nerd, or I deserve a Pulitzer. Now go line up your own spring buy and pull the trigger. Nothing is better than waiting for that doorbell to ring. Speed the day!
Here are the newest members of my team, researched for days and just ordered this afternoon:
 |
| Specialized Borough CX Pro |
 |
| Spin Doctor Pro G3 |
 |
| Diadora X-Country |
If I've managed to get you interested while writing about a shoe, a bike stand and a tire, you're either a hopeless bike nerd, or I deserve a Pulitzer. Now go line up your own spring buy and pull the trigger. Nothing is better than waiting for that doorbell to ring. Speed the day!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Of Wind and Wool
It was indeed exactly as I'd hoped this morning, 32 degrees (a bit chillier than expected) and spitting rain. Yum -- somehow I always manage to find a sweet little groove in-between the raindrops, and chug away like the roleur I fancy myself to be (but really am not). So it was this a.m., rolling steadily by snowy farm fields, the wind very chilled after passing over them, the rain spattering my glasses to a filthy film, the skin around my face and ears chilled deeply despite liberal pre-ride applications of Vaseline. All was right with the world. Could have used a buddy or two to make that stretch between 50 and 80 percent -- the longest mile, always -- a little more cheerful, but that's a nit not to pick.
Reminded once again of my deep gratitude for the progress so many companies have made in creating soft baselayers and glove liners out of virgin wool. Nothing, but nothing, works as well, especially once wet. Just having it on makes me feel safe and warm and strong out there in the challenging weather.
Reminded once again of my deep gratitude for the progress so many companies have made in creating soft baselayers and glove liners out of virgin wool. Nothing, but nothing, works as well, especially once wet. Just having it on makes me feel safe and warm and strong out there in the challenging weather.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Belgian Weather
38 degrees and spitting rain and/or sleet tomorrow morning. Belgian weather, and some of my favorite to ride in.
I'm spitting on my palms and rolling up my wool baselayer sleeves. Hope my buddies don't wimp out.
I'm spitting on my palms and rolling up my wool baselayer sleeves. Hope my buddies don't wimp out.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Spring Classics Time!
There's a white plastic box on my kitchen counter that's showing a bike race going on in Belgium right this moment.
Yes, the video is terrible. Yes, it keeps quitting and I have to reboot the page. No, I don't understand a word of Flemish (which actually kind of adds to the charm).
But there's a white plastic box on my kitchen counter that's showing a bike race going on in Belgium right this moment.
Isn't that cool?
Yes, the video is terrible. Yes, it keeps quitting and I have to reboot the page. No, I don't understand a word of Flemish (which actually kind of adds to the charm).
But there's a white plastic box on my kitchen counter that's showing a bike race going on in Belgium right this moment.
Isn't that cool?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Weighty Decisions
Now why in the wide world would I spend a morning in the gym, when it's 45 degrees and sunny out?
Come ride with me in a few weeks and you'll find out.
Puttin' sum'n in the bank.
That is all.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Belgium Ain't got Nothin' on Mass.
High of 42 degrees. Winds gusting up to 28 miles per hour. And rain.
Perfect.
You know what they say about early season rides: If it ain't rainin', you ain't trainin'.
Hit the Internets yesterday and goaded a couple of buddies into riding with me today. They were pretty game, it didn't take too much, though Racer Rob balked, apparently still not acclimated to the damp New England chill after the temperate lands of his native northern Utah. I wrote back shamelessly reminded him of the many ridiculous over-efforts he's managed to coax me into. Wasn't sure if that alone would do it, so I also made quick, unflattering reference to his manhood -- a graceless coup de grace which apparently did the trick.
In fact, in a year and a half of friendship with both these guys, who are also good friends with each other, it's the first time we've managed to get all of us on the road at one time. I wanted champagne and a ribbon cutting, but they demurred, being both modest and abstemious.
The start was ominous. Like Lear shouting into the teeth of the dooming storm -- "Blow, ye winds, and crack ye hurricanoes!" -- we knew we were in for it. When we all started leaning into the "side-winds" (I can't think of a term that actually captures them) at a 45-degree angle, we even got to try echeloning -- a first for two of us. The dry and warm drivers behind us were not amused, but we sure were.
Rob, true to his grimpeur roots (there are definitely mountains in northern UT) "encouraged" us into a couple of noticeable hills at the far end of our route. As Jacob so accurately pointed out, hills are always worth it -- after you've finished them.
When we neared Jacob's homestead (our finish line), I realized I still needed time to make my goal for the day. Fool that I am, I turned as they headed straight. Straight, that is, for baseboard heating and warm food. I foundered pretty quickly without companionship -- in this weather, having friends along is like having hot tea in your bottle. I realized I was starting to get cold in my core, and was lacking calories. I soon took a shortcut back, making for only an additional :20.
Friends, wives, children and a mug of herbal tea were waiting upon my return. Salves, all.
Despite the weather -- nay, thanks to the weather -- we had a grand time. That is, if smiles, quivering quads, and enthusiastic comments shouted above howling winds are any judge. I hereby declare they are.
Perfect.
You know what they say about early season rides: If it ain't rainin', you ain't trainin'.
Hit the Internets yesterday and goaded a couple of buddies into riding with me today. They were pretty game, it didn't take too much, though Racer Rob balked, apparently still not acclimated to the damp New England chill after the temperate lands of his native northern Utah. I wrote back shamelessly reminded him of the many ridiculous over-efforts he's managed to coax me into. Wasn't sure if that alone would do it, so I also made quick, unflattering reference to his manhood -- a graceless coup de grace which apparently did the trick.
In fact, in a year and a half of friendship with both these guys, who are also good friends with each other, it's the first time we've managed to get all of us on the road at one time. I wanted champagne and a ribbon cutting, but they demurred, being both modest and abstemious.
The start was ominous. Like Lear shouting into the teeth of the dooming storm -- "Blow, ye winds, and crack ye hurricanoes!" -- we knew we were in for it. When we all started leaning into the "side-winds" (I can't think of a term that actually captures them) at a 45-degree angle, we even got to try echeloning -- a first for two of us. The dry and warm drivers behind us were not amused, but we sure were.
Rob, true to his grimpeur roots (there are definitely mountains in northern UT) "encouraged" us into a couple of noticeable hills at the far end of our route. As Jacob so accurately pointed out, hills are always worth it -- after you've finished them.
When we neared Jacob's homestead (our finish line), I realized I still needed time to make my goal for the day. Fool that I am, I turned as they headed straight. Straight, that is, for baseboard heating and warm food. I foundered pretty quickly without companionship -- in this weather, having friends along is like having hot tea in your bottle. I realized I was starting to get cold in my core, and was lacking calories. I soon took a shortcut back, making for only an additional :20.
Friends, wives, children and a mug of herbal tea were waiting upon my return. Salves, all.
Despite the weather -- nay, thanks to the weather -- we had a grand time. That is, if smiles, quivering quads, and enthusiastic comments shouted above howling winds are any judge. I hereby declare they are.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Halfway
Today is Imbolc (pronounced either IM-ulk or IM-bulk), an ancient festival predating Christianity, and even the Celtic tradition, dating, in fact, all the way back to Neolithic times. It marks the day halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The age-old tradition of weather prognostication on this day is echoed in the modern North American version: Groundhog Day.
The day originally was based on the beginning of lactation for the ewes, who were preparing for lambing season. But it soon evolved into a recognition that the ground is warming just a bit under the snow; seeds and tree roots are starting to stir in their sleep. It won't be long before the first early flowers peek up through the whiteness.
I'm not a pagan or a Wiccan, but I have to admit that this festival has always been special to me since a friend introduced me to it while I was living in the mountains of northern New Mexico. Ever since, I begin to notice the changes in my surroundings that begin in late January. It might still be frigid outside, but the sun itself feels a little bit warmer on my back during an afternoon ride than it did a few weeks ago. Another example: Last night, as I was leaving work at 6:00 p.m., I noted the last dribble of sunset still in the western sky (appropriately , it was the night the festival begins -- February 1). This is certainly a marked change from the sunsets of early January, which sometimes seem to begin not long after the end of a late lunch.
Wikipedia says, "Celebrations often involved hearthfires, special foods, divination or simply watching for omens (whether performed in all seriousness or as children's games), a great deal of candles, and perhaps an outdoor bonfire if the weather permits." All great ideas; sometimes I simply go for a walk and look around for signs of the change.
Shamefully, Wikipedia omits the critical ritual cyclists have evolved over the last century or so: The purchase of new tires and bar tape. Some sects, it seems, focus instead on a shiny new chain and cassette. Modern historians agree that, in fact, any sundries will do which make our bikes look and feel new again for those first pre-spring group rides or races in a month or so.
Renewal is on its way. Have hope, and light a candle.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Tone Poem, 3/7/09
First decent ride outside in weeks. Rock and roll!
Wow, the driveway looks like a swamp… My cleats are going to get sanded down pretty good inside the pedals today, with all this mud and grit.
Yeesh, my legs feel like they’re filled with sand. Pneumonia sucks.
What’s that funny smell? Oh, yeah – earth and trees and things. Been a long time.
Sun is warm on my back. Nice.
My legs feel like they’re filled with sand.
How far… oh, yeah, decided not to take the cyclocomputer today. Good move. Trying to listen to the body more. So, how does my body feel? Hmm… ready for a little more. Cool!
What’s that smell? Right: horses. Been a long time. Nice.
Before the pneumonia, I wouldn’t have even noticed this little bump. Now it feels like Mont Ventoux… Crap.
Wheeze. Wheeeeze.
Pnuemonia sucks.
Wheeze.
Wow, check out all the phlegm that comes up from my lungs after a hard effort! Cool. I do love hawking on the fly, it's almost as good as blowing snot. Two of the best things about riding.
Huh – guess pnuemonia has an upside.
Okay. I wish I was home already. My legs feel like… Right, stop thinking that.
Good to be home. After 55 minutes, feel like I used to after four hours. But you know what? Glad I went out. Real glad.
Supposed to be sunny tomorrow, too. Do it again.
Wow, the driveway looks like a swamp… My cleats are going to get sanded down pretty good inside the pedals today, with all this mud and grit.
Yeesh, my legs feel like they’re filled with sand. Pneumonia sucks.
What’s that funny smell? Oh, yeah – earth and trees and things. Been a long time.
Sun is warm on my back. Nice.
My legs feel like they’re filled with sand.
How far… oh, yeah, decided not to take the cyclocomputer today. Good move. Trying to listen to the body more. So, how does my body feel? Hmm… ready for a little more. Cool!
What’s that smell? Right: horses. Been a long time. Nice.
Before the pneumonia, I wouldn’t have even noticed this little bump. Now it feels like Mont Ventoux… Crap.
Wheeze. Wheeeeze.
Pnuemonia sucks.
Wheeze.
Wow, check out all the phlegm that comes up from my lungs after a hard effort! Cool. I do love hawking on the fly, it's almost as good as blowing snot. Two of the best things about riding.
Huh – guess pnuemonia has an upside.
Okay. I wish I was home already. My legs feel like… Right, stop thinking that.
Good to be home. After 55 minutes, feel like I used to after four hours. But you know what? Glad I went out. Real glad.
Supposed to be sunny tomorrow, too. Do it again.
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