Yesterday -- the third, and sadly last day -- brought a 24-mile ride on tired, tired legs. With more climbing.
|But this view!|
|And this view too!|
I've decided I can deal with large hills because they mean bombing down later. And I love flying down a hill with no brakes. It might be my favorite thing in the whole entire world. Dear god, bombing down hills is better than sex. (This is the part where my friends who are normal people and not masochistic triathletes threaten to stage an intervention.)
Anyway, now I am trying to get used to the real world again. Oddly, summer has arrived early here in Seattle -- 70 degrees today -- which means I've transitioned from bike paradise to some kind of floaty blue dream with lots of vitamin D.
I spent the afternoon at Green Lake, lounging in the sunshine and reading. And then Annie and I went for a long, meandering walk around the park.
And then -- just as I was getting ready to settle into an exciting evening of more laundry (I swear, they should just call it quadrathlon and make laundry the fourth event) and cleaning out the refrigerator (this is what happens when you are in a deep depression for an entire month and get absolutely zero done at home -- so many chores to catch up on and moldy food to throw out) -- Heidi invited me to the drag races.
I found myself yelling at a large screen and waving a whiskey around when local queen BenDeLaCreme almost got booted off the show. Apparently drag queens are the only Seattle sports team I can truly get behind.