Tuesday already?

What can I say?

I woke up yesterday on the wrong side of meh.  Just not feeling it.

Was it because I wasn't here Sunday afternoon?

Dunno.  I think my biological clock felt like I shoulda been doing something difficult for somewhere in the neighborhood of four to six hours over this particular weekend.  I did nothing of the sort.  The Pie outta town, I was Dad most of the weekend.  Putzing about the house, I guess like a normal person.

I don't do normal very well.  I wasted way too much time thinking about why Godzilla wouldn't start with the blue flame thing when he had to battle the MUTO things.

I'd lead with it instead of getting the shit beat outta me first.  But I'm like that.

This whole not having a race on the near horizon.  Difficult to contend with.  No reason to put in extra miles or extend a weekend ride... or watch what I eat... or drink less beer... or sweat the details in any respect.

Westward Ho Before Bros Mancation is just over two weeks away.  We're gonna wing it for the most part.  From the airport straight up to Georgia Pass... because why not step right off a plane and head to 11,660 feet.  After the ride, we're heading to Salida to spend the night at a hostel in Salida.  An early wake up the next morning, and we're on the shuttle to do the Monarch Crest everyone rambles on about.  The ride ends near a brewery, so there's that.

Everything on a bike.  I like it.

Next, we wake up with a hangover and head to Durango... and then the winging begins.  Don't know where we are staying.  Don't know how long we'll be there.  Don't know where we're going next.  I do know I love the fact that there's great riding in Durango without getting in a car, a sweet greenway, and Ska Brewing.  And then?

It's Colorado.  Not like it's gonna suck wherever we go.  Crested Butte?  FrOOta?  As long as we're riding something every day, I'll be okay with that.