The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Despite having a fever, I rode for and hour and a half Saturday, at noon....genius plan. I did and hour long spin on Tuesday. Last night I had a real honest to goodness mountain bike ride. I figure I lost four days of riding in the last two weeks.
Normally at the first sign of illness I get in bed, demand liquids and soup (which go unanswered cause my wife don't play that), and I watch black and white movies till the storm passes. I find no peace in this ritual, because I can feel my enemies at the gate. I know Worm is riding at lunch solo, at night with the crew, and he is eating dinner, while watching the tour, on his stationary trainer. Juancho has ridden to Saudi Arabia and back since the first sniffle cursed my head. Big Jim Slade is always dangerous because he thinks he is slow (he isn't) and this causes him to over train, insult and slap himself in the car for being weak. It's a dangerous combo-pack for the Wrecker.
I am not the man I was at Bump And Grind, but I still have a few miles in my legs. I caught a guy and passed him like he owed me rent last night. I sprinted on Blairstone and peaked at 35mph. I'm gonna be fine.....If I can just hide from Worm and Juancho for a few more days!
W.B.Z.N.
