Riding in the Cold Rain

Finally made it home after what seemed like an ETERNITY out on the trusty Cannondale. It was really just over an hour, but it rained as soon as we started and stopped only for Carla to change a flat. Rain and 40 degrees. By the end, we were all soaked. Of course, I forgot most of my dry clothes and shivered all the way home with the heat full-blast in the car. I've been colder, but never this soaked before.

I'd like to send out a huge THANKS--really--to Becky, Alane, Carla, Craig, Sara and her husband, Lemon Meringue (cheeky monkey), for keeping an eye on me as I tootled along at the back along Wild Horse Creek and huffed and puffed up the Babler Beast. Yes, Carla--I'm trying to sit up tall, honey. Keep reminding me. I'll get it. I want it.

I'll admit I had some fear going down Doberman. Let's practice breaking skills, in the rain, with rain-covered glasses, on great big hills. El Pollo Grande.

Becky should ride in Paris-Roubaix. She looked like Georgie today with her cap on. Dirt on her face, in her teeth. Off the front, like a machine.

On another note, I tried my first Yerba Mate' today. Looks like green tea. Tastes like a bike shop. I'm serious. It smells and tastes like a bike shop--if one could "taste" a bike shop. Like a combo of rubber and lube and lycra. I'll give it a few more shots, though.

Right now I'm gonna whip up a kick-ass pot of Khaldi's. Thanks Bec.

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