Dead Man's Party

It wasn't until after I got to work on Monday did it dawn on me that it was New Years Eve.  All the positivity on the social medias reminded me that I'm supposed to be all upbeat and whatnot... and my last post of 2018 was just bitching about the weather.

Meh.

New year, who dis?

I woke up on New Years Day kinda late.  No solid plan.  Just more greenway grinding on the menu... once the chance of rain subsides.

Sitting on the couch with my coffee at around 10:15AM, I got a text from Stabby.  He and Erik (formerly) Van Driver were headed to Uwharrie.  I wasn't willing to make the hour and twenty minute drive to ride alone, but with good company?

Sure.

Scramble mode.

Took the time to prep proper-like.  I said I was gonna re-up on Carborocket cheat juice and ride drank.  At least it halps me feel like an athlete.

Out the door in less than a half hour... and there on time.  Get a text from Stabby.  They're running late.

I break out my tiny whisk broom and commence to detail the interior of the Honda Fit of Rage while I wait.

They do show up and although the ride isn't a mega-mile slog, it's the best ride that I've been on in weeks.

My bike actually reached woohoo speeds multiple times and my wheels mighta left the ground a time or two.  What a pleasant treat, riding my mountain bike in the mountains.

So obvs, nowhere as fit as I was hoping to be coming into 2019 with things on my plate right around the corner, but at least some bike stoke has poked through the clouds and showed up for the party, albeit...