Saturday. Massage to try to get the knots out of my shoulders. Shenandoah Mountain 100 on a rigid frok will do that to a(n old) man. Knock out some responsibilities and then ride 12.5 miles to Sherman Branch, 16 miles of trail, and back home.
Sunday. Wake up. No riding. Just give the legs a break. Wash the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 Feel unproductive. It's still early.
Stand on the front porch and see that holly bush growing right in front of the house where it doesn't belong. It's been eyeballing me for some time. Get the loppers. Next thing you know, I'm grabbing the ladder, busting down bushes, machete chopping weeds, mow what I refer to as "the lawn"... anal compulsion can do wonders when focused on all the things.
Go to Bike Source. Pick up plastic bits.
Come home. Legit time to drink beer and do things. Wash my car that looks more like some dirty pile of sap and pine needles... with wheels somehwhere under it. Car washing stuff already in the front yard, beer still available, drag out all the bikes for a thorough cleaning.
And then I don't feel so good. Nose feels like I huffed oven cleaner. Head weighs twenty pounds.
So either I got all up in some fall pollen doing yard work stuff, or I have a cold. Sunday night's sleep was miserable either way, an open-mouth breathing affair with lots of tossing and turning and some coughing and sneezing.
Look at the clock. 3:30AM. Reset the early "I'm gonna go for a ride before work" alarm to "just enough time to drink my coffee before I leave for work" friendly time.
Now to sit back and see how this week pans out.