Not because she's phat like Cindy Crawford

Half way threw today’s ride, the built up boredom of a long week on the pavement finally got the best of me. With a few hours remaining, i hightailed it home and peeled out of the drive way on what a bike should be. Ridged, Heavy, and with as many gears as there are brakes: one. The mud was thick and the water logged branches hung at a decapitatingly low level. It was everything i remembered and more. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Fat Marc quotes swirled around in my head about the high of riding the single and for those brief moments, heart rate zones and power outputs took a needed backseat to thoughts of "I bet i could gap that" and "well, worst case: it's a soft landing." The words "It's about time!" echoed in my head until day light finally sizzled out. With the culmination of the last BIG week before nationals, it was time for some pizza and a trip through the old CD case. The 90's are here, and don't call it a comeback. That hat always means trouble... See you in Wrentham Sunday?