Yesterday’s ride was as good as it gets.  After a great club ride on Tuesday, it was a perfect night for a victory lap.  I actually tried to take a full hour to make it back to my driveway, covering the 16 miles sitting up to look at everything I normally miss with my head down.

The wind was negligible, out of the west-north-west in the single digits.  Not a cloud in the sky.  My bike is perfectly tuned and running like the precision machine it is.  No creaks, clicks, ticks… just the whir of the chain as I fly down the road.

Wait, no, no, no flying down the road.

Easy.

I purposely ignored the computer, or at least tried to.  Just spinning.  Spin, spin, spinni… Dude, who am I kidding.  I look down at the computer.  18.3 mph. Into the wind. Oops.  Downshift.  17.5…  That’s better.

I couldn’t believe how many cyclists I was seeing!  Normally I’m lucky to see one, I saw three before the halfway point – and my buddy Mike in his truck.

I stopped at the shop on my way home…  I had five miles to go.  999, on the nose.

With the wind at my back I tried to keep it slow but I checked twice and I was north of 21 mph.  I chilled out once I headed south, back home and pulled into the driveway at 55m:17s.  It’s official.  Unless I’m with my kids, my Venge can’t go 16 mph.  It’s simply too fast*.

Anyway, I celebrated more, because life is sober is one big-ass celebration, with some cyclist food.  Protein, to build muscles…

If you look real close, that’s butter pecan ice cream…  Better than chocolate milk, methinks.

*Too fast is relative.  If I’m climbing a 6% or better grade, I’ll guarantee you it can go slower than 16 mph.  In fact, I believe I’ve had it down to 4 or 5 mph climbing an 18% hill.  Forgive me for generalizing…  I don’t know how slow I was going – I didn’t bother looking at the computer…  I had my attention on the hill.