Well, we’re back from Indiana, and I’m hitting the ground running like a freshly excreted dog turd onto a frosty spring lawn.
The four-day trip into America’s heartland of COVID negligence for a soccer tournament was better than I thought (in that it happened at all) and just as bad as I thought (aforementioned negligence, combined with COVID fuckedupedness and guilt).
I’ll explain a bit.
My time to get out for some junk miles has been very limited as of late due to weather and time, mostly time. There has been too much going on this week, including a 3 day trip to Indiana for the Crossroads of America College Showcase soccer tournament, that at this point (7:30 AM Thursday), we still don’t know if we’re going because of COVID related issues with 1/4 of the team.
My newfound custom of getting up early continued on Sunday, and with that, I got a shit ton of stuff done, including baking some crispy, crunchy toasted homemade muffin bread and installing an Ortleib bag bracket on the Fattishson (The Roscoe’s current name before it becomes a 29er in the future).
Then I decided to ride.
I woke up early this morning 75 pounds lighter, with no signs of depression in sight, a real job to go to, and a spring in my step as my about to be fully vaccinated self danced down the steps towards a hot cup of morning coffee.
Yeah, April fools. The vaccination part is true1, and the coffee was hot, but the rest is all lies. LIES, I SAY!! FUCKING LIES!!!
Sorry.
