Aftermath

It's been over a week since I got back from Fairbanks.
 
The fire that closed the Parks Highway and burned through the community of Willow is more or less under control, and while it's still burning there are other hot spots around the state that are keeping firefighters busy. My thoughts are with friends up there working to protect lives and property.
 
Hot (for Anchorage) temperatures have made training rides interesting for the last week, and I was glad Janice allowed me to back off and recover. It's started to cool off as the clouds roll in, so hopefully some solid rain will help with the firefighting efforts. It would be a nice change.
 
My TT bike and race bike are still sitting untouched in the garage, still coated in Denali Highway dust. I just haven't had the time or energy to clean them, so I will likely contract Ebola when I get around to it. Maybe tomorrow.
 
After a few days of limping around, my calf finally feels normal. A doctor I talked to said it was likely a small tear from the cramp, but it sure didn't feel small. The lower back strain from trying to protect the calf also seems to be fading. I got back in the saddle for an easy spin after a day off and the broken parts felt better when I rode. The cause is also the cure. I slowly ramped up the intensity and found the ouch limits, then quickly backed off.
 
I skipped a TT this week. No need to further injure myself for another sub-par result.
 
I have tan lines. That I got in Alaska. How strange. I'm a pretty fair-skinned guy, and don't really tan that much even in the south. The best I can hope for is my arm freckles to grow together. Most years darker skin would either indicate I spent time at a tanning salon or inspire inquires about when I got back from Hawaii. This year skin tones are skewing a few shades darker in Alaska.
 
In about a week I head to the east coast to ride my bike for 3 weeks and maybe visit with some family. My wife may disagree with me on the priority list. Hopefully I can burn more calories than I consume, but no promises in the land of extra large deep-fried salads with whipped butter dressing. And a Diet Coke. I think I can pick up a spirited group ride here or there for intensity and get in some good mileage, and still have time for brief verbal greetings with family.
 
I'm about as mentally fried as I have been after every stage race, win or lose. Something trips and I just don't have the drive anymore. Sometimes I recover quickly, sometimes I don't.
 
I'm hoping for the former.

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