I'm lying in bed, it's a few minutes before 6 a.m., and the phone rings. "You da guy wit da littl dawg?" I ask the dimwit who he's trying to call. "Ah meen da lil poodle." He finally figures out he got a wrong number and hangs up. A minute later, of course, he calls again. I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone in the first place.
It was time to head out to the Giro ride anyway. The group today was huge, and the pace was mostly fast. At times it was crazy-fast. One thing the flatlanders down here know how to do and that's "go fast." We spent large amounts of time around 30 mph. You would have thought it was the world championships or something. Without much of a wind, however, most people were able to hang on. The sprint at the end of Chef Highway would have been nice if I had moved up earlier. As it was, I waited too long and got hung up a little behind people who obviously had no intention of sprinting.
On the way back, after the Chef Highway sprint, we were on the service road when Lawrence hit one of those chunks of broken concrete that we tried to clean up last week and flatted. A group stayed with him while he changed it, but most of the ride just slowed down for a while. Not enough that he would have a snowball's chance in hell of ever catching, you understand. I wasn't feeling too bad today, but for some reason didn't really want to go quite as hard as we were. One thing for sure. It was hot. It's almost 4:30 right now and the temperature outside is still above 91F, so I guess it's safe to put away the arm-warmers now.
Since it was so toasty warm, I naturally decided to go out in the sun when I got home and trim the hedges and stuff. Looking forward to a nice ride out in the country tomorrow.
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