Glorious

Today the sun is shining, the winds are calm (for a change), the temperature is going to be a balmy 60F (hey, it's Anchorage in May). It's just about as nice as you could expect for this time of year.
 
I'm not riding.
 
Today I'm not going to get on my bike. I may wash it, because it's pretty filthy and the chances for contracting a rare African sleeping disease from the congealed gunk on the frame are 50/50. It's time to thank it for putting up with the abuse I've hurled its direction over the last couple weeks. It can't be easy supporting the flailing, wheezing, and ultimately unsatisfying efforts of a fat old guy way past his prime. It's like being a groupie at a Meatloaf concert.
 
Instead, I have a full day of the meaningless nothing most people call life planned. No grunting my way up a hill or dodging traffic as I try to finish off one more interval. Not even a leisurely ride to loosen up the legs.
 
It's going to be glorious.

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