Stoked

My brother has forgotten more about cycling and training for competitions than I'll ever likely know. He's diagnosed me as having more enthusiasm at this point than I can usefully apply to the bike. Maybe so.

I still have some intermittent tingles & numbness in my ring and pinky fingers from last week's 40 miler. I don't want to aggravate the injury, but I've popped for a super high gooseneck (I can turn it up a bit more but I'd need longer cables to do so), padded gloves, and so on. My shin splints have pretty much healed up, and it is supposed to once again be obscenely nice weather tomorrow.

The bike is in the car. The G2 is mixed in the bike bottles (found the powdered form, costs about a fourth as much as the ready to drink). Helmet, gloves, trail maps, air pump, all in the car. Plan is to try and make myself go to sleep early for a change so I can hit the trail while the day is young and the air is cool. I'm not a morning person—the way Liv Tyler is not ugly and Richard Simmons is not straight. I'm not a morning person the way Sturgis is not a mecca of sobriety. The way the Waffle House is not about health food, Peter Pan is not about growing up, the way the Dead Kennedys are not 'easy listening.'

I'm not a morning person the way soccer is not football. Ever.

But I want to rebel against my nature this time. Unseasonably cool weather to ride in should not be squandered. Plus I have work to do tomorrow, and I need to get the ride in first.