We, that Spouse o' Mine and I, receive cycling emails from the university community cyclists and beyond. Occasionally, we send out emails or replies on said List-Serve.
This week there was a flurry of emails regarding our Saturday ritual of cycling into the next town for breakfast. How to re-invent the wheel, more-or-less. How to split into groups, not drop anyone, how to re-group, who is stopping for pancakes, who is going to the Olympics? (OK, that last one is an exaggeration, albeit a teeny-tiny one.)
This morning we awoke to a nippy temperature and real wind. Nevertheless, dedicated cyclists that we are (one of us, anyway...) we headed out to join our cycling community.
Well! Only four cyclists came by for us to join in the ride! Windy, yes. Cold, yes. But ride, we did. When we came to the part which turned north into the north wind and into Breakfastland, I bowed out of the pelaton. I know these guys: the 20-25 mph testosterone boys, who would not enjoy my whiney-pot ride, SLOW by their standards, into the headwind on a highway which is busy enough that it takes my full concentration to go down.
So I circled back, and 45 minutes later returned to rejoin that Spouse o' Mine on his way home after his Pancake Ride.
Me? I had leftover funeral chicken salad and a baked potato upon my return home.