Yesterday was the Tour de Cure in Anchorage. They had a new course because some people had complained that the old 62 mile course was too easy. I was not one of those people. Over the years, I've used a lot of metaphors for steep hills, calling them ladders or some such. In this case, words fail. The ride up Rabbit Creek Rd was steep and hard, and then it became steeper and harder. I made it to the top, and then wound my way back through the mountains and the flats to the finishing arch in Mountain View. A woman sitting there asked me, "Are you the sweeper?"
"No," I said.
"Then, are you a Red Rider?" she asked.
"No, I'm old and slow, leave me alone," I explained.
Then I ate a free Subway sandwich, a peanut butter sandwich I had with me, and rode my bike home. There I ate two more sandwiches, and then we went to Don Jose's for dinner.
Today I'm back on my plan with no ill effects from food bingeing, nor the ride, except I'm stiff as a board.
Well, I'd say stiff as a board, but unlike a board, I can bend, but also unlike a board, I groan with each movement.