Doing my favorite thing.

Was just about out the door this morning, headed for country pedaling on a sunny 30 degree day. Then the door bell rang, there was a FedEx truck out front and a large box on my front porch. Now my Racing team and coaching staff want me to keep this a secret, so I can't say what was in the box, but I'll leave you with this clue, my best wrench is putting together my ultimate snow machine.

Kept a good pace, kept a good heart rate, headed west of town until I had 32 miles in so the return trip would give me a metric dirt century.

Holy smokes, I didn't feel the wind pushing me out on the first half out, but somehow the wind on the return half was like dragging an anchor. I zipped back up every zipper I opened on the way out, to stay warm, stood on the pedals and was working hard to maintain 7 mph. That was brutal, but a good workout is worth it's weight in gold, and endorphins flooding my brain chemistry make a buzz that can't be beat.

Saw only one other bicyclist, and he was riding back into town, when I was riding out of town. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a Cubs jacket. My guess he was only on a bike because the judge told him hand me over your driver's license.

I was only on a bike because I can.

Marked a couple of sink holes with this red danger tape. I know of one rider that crashed here because she didn't know the sink hole was there.

Came home zonked and after going through a gorging feeding frenzy I fell asleep on the couch with laptop on my lap and TV on.

My butt is on the couch and me legs are up on the coffee table, recovering, they have more work to do tomorrow, like Dirt Metric # 97.

So this is Dave saying Good bye,