At least it felt that way when I got home. I am finally over the cold and misery that Is brought back from the UK before Christmas, and yesterday decided to go out and play with the fast boys. 92 kilometers and much heavy breathing later, I limped back to Algorfa alone. I slowly drifted off the rear of the peloton somewhere near Orihuela and watched as they disappeared at a enviable clip. I guess my hill training needs to be increased.
Tonight is the annual Burns by Bike dinner to celebrate Robert Burns. It's presented by a contingent of Scots who ride and train with us. I was planning to go on my Pub bike, but was convinced that it was not advisable to cycle the back roads on Saturday night-especially after quaffing a wee bit of the "Old Country". I'm tempted, despite warnings, to try the haggis.
Been working on a number of painting and collages and have a lot more lurking in the deep, dark recesses of my mind. Reminds me of someone who used to ask me if I found that thought "in there", pointing at my head. Why, yes, I did!