The thermometer is 88 degrees (no not celsius). I’m freezing. I guess there a just days like this.
The paceline is all weird too. The leader is cruising at 22 mph, but the last guy (# 10) is is only going at 17 mph.
I am pedaling uphill and downhill simultaneously.
I turn to my wife, who also rides, and say “What is going on?”
She smiles sweetly, knowingly and tenderly — hollers out to the whole group — “Mechanical!.”
Everyone stops and looks at her, waiting for an explanation.
“Hubby is low on fluids . . . you guys go ahead and we will meet you at the rest stop, maybe.”
Thirty minutes and two quarts later, I am no longer freezing. I am riding level. Life is right again.
How I hate to bonk.