Recovery is bliss.

Tonight I feel a bit like the scene from The Triplets of Belleville right before his mother begins truing his wheel. My friends on two wheels felt little like friends as they smashed me through the wind on what should have been a modest ride to Northfield. I can't complain too much as right now, Caydel and I are in the enviable position of having nothing to do but drink beer and chase the cat around. I'm doing more of one and he more of the other. I'll leave the mystery out there.

Tomorrow I will race at Buck Hill. It is always a favorite of my week. I'll have visions of grandeur until about a half hour before the race. At that point I'll convince myself that I should probably just go home. Then the race will start and I will be passed by a substantial amount of people. After about a lap I'll start to go a bit faster and pass a couple of people back. Then I will probably end in a position that is fine but not great and the week will begin again. Maybe I should get a Niner for the starting line encouragement?