Today I took a 50-mile bike ride with my good pal Rozmo. It would have been completely perfect if the other two members of Team Chi-Chis could have joined us. Katydid was busy being a good daughter, and VT goes to church on Sundays.
Oh, and it would have been slightly better if I had noticed that the sunglasses I chose to wear today were missing the little nose pad thingies. Ouch. Fifty miles of ouch.
We made several store stops, and people were very nice (and talkative) to us. Several told us they should be doing what we were doing, then they got in their cars and drove away. (I guess it would have been impractical to expect them to drop everything right then and go on a bike ride, especially as there were no bicycles in sight.) A fireman came in one store (and he was EASY on the eye) and said he was a cyclist too. He asked where we were going, I told him back to my hometown, and he said, "Please tell me you're NOT going down Highway 11?" That was the road the store was on. I said to him, "Oh no, you can bet we won't be doing that." I didn't tell him the part about learning the hard way not to ride my bike on Highway 11 several years ago. On a Friday afternoon. It's a major truck route between our town and a nearby one. What an idiot.
We saw a youngish looking deer cross the road in front of us. It stopped in the middle of the road and just stared for the longest time. We slowed down to keep from spooking it, but it ran back the way it had come. I think I heard it saying, "Mama! You won't BELIEVE what I just saw!" I wanted to get a picture, but I had to stop first, and by the time I got that accomplished, the deer was gone. You'll just have to trust me that it was indeed there.
Rozmo wanted to take a picture of the sign at "Grandpa's Crack House." It's a little home-operated business where people can take pecans (and I guess other nuts) to get them cracked. What a clever name. I wonder how many errant visitors he gets? Some people are so literal, you know.
Now I can't get enough water. I emptied my water bottles three (or four) times, and they hold 20 ounces each. I also had three 20-ounce bottles of Gatorade. When I got home I fixed my usual thermal cup of ice water with lemon, and I think it holds around 32 ounces, not including ice. I'm on my second one of those. And tomorrow is my official weigh-in day. I'll probably weigh in the neighborhood of 412 pounds after all this liquid. If so, I'm going to cheat and enter the weight I was this morning. It just isn't right to gain weight after a 50-mile bike ride, and I KNOW it's just the liquids. If today follows the usual pattern, I won't even get up in the night to go to the bathroom. But tomorrow at school I will be the restroom sprinter all day long. I think my muscles hold on to all that liquid because they think (rightly so) they're dying. Once they realize I'm not going to do that to them again (until next Saturday), they turn loose of it all at once. That's my theory based on years of research, and I'm sticking to it.
Quote of the Day from Rozmo when I took off my cycling helmet at the end of the ride and tied a bandanna around my head:
"Nice 'do. Actually, that's a don't."
Early to bed tonight. Three weeks until Fall Break!