That's what's for dinner. Cody's on the other side of the country, so there's no incentive to do the dishes. Forks make servicable utensils when the peanut butter is chunky.
Had a nice weekend of un-racing. By which I mean, I attended races, paid lots of money, and then didn't do much racing. Just not feeling it. Although I had a lovely ride up Mt. Hamilton with the Kitty People on Sunday, which was almost certainly the highlight of the weekend. Or, the last 20 miles or so were - fun fun fun downhill fast stuff through a cool canyon. I think I set a new course record for the slowest time on that course. Fortunately I don't think they post times, so no one need know what that time was.
On Monday I went to the Memorial Day crit in Morgan Hill. I was a wus and just raced the 3/4 race, I don't think I got my heartrate above 140 the whole time. I had a lousy position going into the final stretch, and sat on the wrong wheel. So I was, er, near the back. Probably the less said about it, the better. Hmph. Anyway, disgruntled as I was, I had my car packed up within about 5 minutes of finishing my race, and I was on my way back home. Felt lame for not sticking around for the 1/2/3 race, but sometimes you've just gotta call it a day.
Looks like the ladies kicked some butt at the Golden State crit on saturday, though!
I only took one picture this weekend - of my dog on his first trip across the Golden Gate Bridge. Why, you may ask, did I go through San Francisco to get to San Jose? Don't ask, I reply, it's not a good story.
Until next time . . .
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