I love my bike. It's there for me when bruised and battered feet grow weary of hiking and climbing...foot-slogging, saddled with a burdensome arch-flattening pack that ofttimes threatens to peel me backwards off some mountain.
This summer I've managed to bump up my riding miles to 50, which, on hot sunny days, feels like a hundred. On those days pushing 85 degrees I leave all out on the trail, barely make it up the stairs.
But soon, with half of a cold beer in hand and the other half in my belly, I deem the effort worthy. It only takes half a beer to both savor and amplify post-ride endorphins surging through my hypothalamus and arteries. In lieu of curing disease, dispelling climate change or fostering world peace, well, at least I feel like I've done something.
Then, somewhere about 3 ounces into a second beer, sleep overwhelms my desiccated body and whisks me off to a snoring slumber. A cool shower wakes me up, but I've been known to drift off again and again till bedtime. It doesn't embarrass me anymore. I'm old enough to have well-earned post-ride naps.
|Leon, prepping his mountain bike for a ride|
|Leon says he misses these rides|
|We had to give a couple Well-Horned bucks the right of way...|
Bonus Photos from a ride Bobbie and I did to Ridgway Reservoir State Park a couple days prior:.. (To get Daisy the Rv out of storage and ready for the road)
Mark and Bobbie