I was the only one to show up for the warm-up last evening and I was glad this was the case. The weather report had called for gnarly weather in the evening for the better part of a week, right up till noon yesterday. Then, bam, it’s going to be hot and sunny with no rain. I even brought the Venge it was so nice out. After I prepped, I rolled out to warm my legs up and was not feeling it. I couldn’t figure it out. I should have been spry and ready to go.
You know those days where you clip in, excited for a fast, fun ride and you’re legs say, “Yeah, I don’t think so, Sparky. We’re going to make this hurt a little bit.”? That was me.
I settled into the headwind and figured my legs would join the party soon enough. A mile into a crosswind and up a little hill I should have easily scurried up (but didn’t), then I was into tailwind. 24 should have been easy but 22 was work (38 & 35 kmh respectively). My legs never came around and that played hard in my melon when it came time to roll out for the main event.
With a small(ish) group on hand because of the questionable weather, sun and heat (around 90), we decided to stick together as one group. Todd and Greg already had 60 miles in earlier in the day and Jerad was nursing back a knee injury (but he’s an actual pro athlete – he’s got “want to” on top of his “want to”). There were a couple of other A guys to worry about, but I figured it wouldn’t be too bad when they said they’d play nice and we could all stick together. It actually made sense.
And that goodwill lasted all of two miles.
The headwind mile and a half was great, but somewhere in that next mile north with a crosswind, somebody dropped the hammer. The group surged from 24-mph to 28 (45-kmh) and stayed there. I’d chosen the outside lane and was getting hammered by the crosswind – I did this so I could be protected later, when we headed south. I held on till I’d had enough, then flicked out from third bike. I wasn’t angry, A Group is going to be the A Group, after all. I just didn’t want to deal with that crap. Neither did Chucker and David. They went with me.
But Todd and Greg slowed the pace down and dropped back to bring us up to the group. I almost didn’t go. That’s a lot like being kind of pregnant, though.
Unfortunately, I was redlined most of the ride. I’d managed to get a spot behind one of the shorter riders – I think he’s 5’4″ and even in my drops I was still a few inches taller than he was – and he’s a lot younger and fitter so his aero was a lot more aero than mine. I’d take 30 second pulls up front because behind Bryan, it was just like I was up front behind him. I felt bad for being so short up front but there was no way I wasn’t pulling through and I figured I’d still be better with the group than off on my own.
Greg saw me struggling and asked if I wanted to switch lanes to ride behind Todd. Todd is 6’4″ and his nickname is the Watt King. Enough said. I went from purple-lined to green in a matter of a few miles but the damage was done. I never fully recovered though I did much better. Behind Bryan (another pro athlete, btw) there were at least four times I wanted to quit. After switching to Todd, I regained my composure a little bit but we were coming up on the hills… and I wasn’t the only one struggling. Our lone tandem couple got hammered in the hills. They were amazing, but the hills proved to be too much and they started drifting off the back, so I went with them.
We took a shortcut that put us in front of the main group and waited for them to catch us. I figured Dave would want back on the group but when they caught us after two miles, he just let them go. Chuck dropped off the back to ride with us as well. And it was good.
We all took turns up front and kept the pace between 22 & 24-mph but took it very easy up the last of the hills. It was a great home stretch and we crossed the line with a 22-mph average (35 km/h). I was glad to be done and ended up with 32 miles for the main event (plus seven for the warm-up and 1 for the cooldown). I knew good and well I was going to sleep like a baby once I was showered and turned in for the night. I knew it down to my baby toes.
And so, the promotion!
It was deemed at our club board meeting the other night that the B Group was too fast to be called the B Group. The others said we were, without question, everyone else’s A Group so we should reclassify all of the groups to match most other groups with the B Group being the 17 to 19-mph crew. We decided the A Group would be called A-Elite and we’d be the A group, so the B Group could be a fairer 18 to 20-mph (our biggest local club, the TCBA – Tri-County Bicycle Assn classifies the A Group as 19+ mph or “very fast”).
And so it was. My first night in the A Group and I wanted to quit at least four times… but I hung in there and toughed it out. Toughing it out, rather than dropping, was definitely the high point of the night.
Dinner was excellent. And I did sleep like a baby last night. It was marvelous.
Desperation will make a man do things he normally wouldn’t. We’ve got another two or three days left of this ridiculous rainy weather and it’s only supposed to get worse until Friday. Yesterday afternoon was looking fantastic as the day wore on. It was hot, of course, but sunny with a nice breeze. I spent the early afternoon with my wife, daughters and my side of the family before heading home to ride. They’re here from all over the country for my daughter’s open house and so we could get everyone back together – it’s been seven years.
I got home just before 5 and cleaned up my bike a little from Sunday’s ride, then got ready. I was out the door and spinning towards Chucker’s house at five after with a smile on my face. I noticed my left cleat had my heel out a little, so I made a mental note to use Chuck’s Allen wrench collection to rectify that. I made my right turn after the first mile, looking left to make sure no traffic was coming – and that’s when I saw the storm cloud. Bigger than a mountain and heading northeast. Unfortunately, the start of that cloud was probably two miles south of where I was. We were going to get wet.
Thankfully, as hot as it was, I was actually looking forward to getting a little drenched. The operative word there is “little”. We got a lot. I was riding into my own rooster tail whenever we approached 22-mph – which prompted my Strava Title for the ride; ‘Twas an Alice in Chains Kinda Ride… Chucker started singing “Here Comes the Rooster” as he rode by and pulled in front of me, dousing me with his rooster tail… to which I responded by coming back around at 25-mph, singing, “Yea-ah yea-aah”, then gave the universal, “nom-nom-nom”.
The road was pooling water and I hit a pretty gnarly pothole hidden under a puddle that sent a shock up my arm but was no worse for the wear.
Five miles later it was drying up and we weren’t kicking up rooster tails anymore, but we weren’t fast enough to bother drafting, either. And then my drivetrain started squeaking a little bit. It was either the chain or the jockey wheels. Too much time in the rain finally caught up.
Once safely in the driveway with a little more than 22 easy miles, I started cleaning my bike waiting for my wife and daughters to get home (my girls got their second shot yesterday) but she called in the middle of my cleaning and asked me to get dinner started because she was tired out, so I dropped everything and got to it. Once done with dinner I went back to it and finished what I’d started. The bike was a mess (I’ll probably have to think about emptying the frame out of water…).
I won’t lie, I hate all of the extra maintenance needed when I ride in the rain… but other than that, it isn’t all that bad! Except eating rooster tails. That part I could live without.
A small miracle happened yesterday. After being predicted a washout all week long, the weather app of choice showed we had a window through which we could ride and possibly not get rained on… Chuck texted a few minutes after I saw the updated weather Saturday evening; “Any ride announcement for Sunday am?” Of course, it has to be mentioned, we’d been huddled down in front of the TV screen the night before watching tornado warnings flash across the screen. Thankfully, we appear to have made it through unscathed – some high winds and heavy rain were about it.
I sent the text just after. Wheels would roll at 7am, weather permitting.
And they did roll. We had a great turnout considering the roads were wet – very wet. It had rained two hours prior and with humidity levels in the upper 90s, they weren’t going to dry out any time soon. Mike and I started out in the front, into a gentle southwesterly breeze at an easy, Sunday Funday pace. Then McMike and Dale went to the front after we flicked off, two miles in and we went from Sunday Funday to “we gone”. 17-mph to 21, just like that. The tandem held the pace thereafter and that set it for the rest of the ride.
It was decided early, possibly “suggested” that we do the shorter “Deer Loop” at around 36 miles. This suited me because my daughter’s graduation open house was later that day and we still had some set-up to finish up. The pace was fast but we managed to take it down a few notches when needed for everyone to regroup and the roads started to dry up about the half-way point, about the same time as we hit tailwind.
The roll home was spectacular and other than being dripping wet from the high humidity, we stayed dry. Many of the others split off for extra miles but I headed home to clean up and help. We’d been gone just less than two hours when I pulled in the driveway with a 19.4-mph average. I showered and put some work clothes on and headed out back… to find I was persona non grata for having gone on the ride in the first place.
I knew it was going to be a little sticky but it was a lot worse than anticipated… even though we got the place ready in plenty of time (enough time for a nap). I took my lumps (and will likely continue to for the foreseeable future).
It was worth it. Especially when we’re all stressed out and working our asses off to pull off an open house fourteen hours after tornados… Everyone else may have had their undies in a bunch because I missed out on helping by a half-hour or so, but I’d have been in a different space when the fit hit the shan had I not been smiling inside from that most excellent bike ride. A bike ride is always worth it.
It’s well-known to anyone who’s read this page that I hate riding in the rain. I’ll do it, but only if I’m caught out in it. I won’t start in the rain. That all changed this week with the strangest weather pattern I’ve ever seen. The outlook on Friday (and yesterday morning) was for a 40% or better chance of rain every day for the next ten to fourteen days.
For someone who hates riding in the rain, this presents a bit of a problem.
Mike called my wife yesterday morning and it was raining – it had been all night. Everything was soaked. There was a fair chance it was going to continue raining for the rest of the day, but it was at least light at the moment. Barely more than a drizzle – and it was one of those warm rains that are quite enjoyable, not the chill you to the bone cold rains. I asked my wife to let Mike know I’d ride with him. Mike was taking the gravel bike and I liked the choice. At least I wouldn’t have to spend the day cleaning the Trek after the ride…
We rolled out into the light rain at 7am sharp with a mild temp in the mid-70s (23 C) and barely any wind. I was in bibs, a short-sleeved jersey and a vest. The vest was too much. The pace was a little slow for my liking but Mike and I just rode side-by-side and talked – when traffic, which was mercifully light, wasn’t present, of course. The craziest thing happened as we rolled down the road… I was enjoying myself. In the rain.
About a third into the ride the rain stopped but with 94% humidity, the roads never dried out. It was sloppy the whole way but it wasn’t a cold, nasty sloppy. It was a mild, comfortable sloppy.
I dropped Mike at his road and turned to go the long way home. I had 25 in already but I wanted to stretch my legs out after the mild pace till that point. I took it to the barn, averaging around 20-mph for the last six miles. Pretty decent for the gravel bike.
I cleaned up and ate some lunch… and I wore a decent smile the rest of the day. Who would have thunk it? I enjoyed a ride in the rain! I just might lighten up about that in the future.
Are S-Works Cycling Shoes That Much Better Than Torch 2.0 Shoes? The Scientific and Special Differences Between a $150 and a $400 Pair of Cycling Shoes
In my first post on the difference between a pair of S-Works and Torch 2.0 cycling shoes that explored whether they’re worth the extra $250, I gave the touchy-feely version of what’s better in the S-Works shoes to come up with the conclusion that, if you can afford the price tag, they’re worth it – but not necessary for the local club ride and definitely not necessary if they put a strain on the budget.
In this post, we’re going to get into the science of the shoes and get a little geeky. Know this, before I’ve ever done the research, if you can’t stomach the $400 sticker price, don’t despair. The S-Works shoes are about as necessary on a club ride as a bell. The Torch 2.0 shoes, at $160 and in the middle of the road lineup, are more than enough… even though the S-Works version are the cat’s pajamas.
Let’s start with the easy part: The stiffness index of the S-Works shoe: 13 (newer versions are 15!). The stiffness index of the Torch 2.0: 7. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out which will allow you to deliver better power to the pedals. In shoes, as in bottom brackets, flex isn’t a good thing. There’s a lot to be said for vertical compliance in a frame, but in shoes stiff wins. When I tested my S-Works 6 shoes, I had no idea what the stiffness index was (I knew the Torch 2.0s were a 7 and my old Specialized Road Pro shoes were a 13, so I had a feeling the S-Works would be close but I did no research before riding them). After the first ride, I knew by feel, it was substantial. I was correct.
Power to the pedals is only one giant plus for a stiff shoe sole bed. The second is comfort. Assuming the shoes, you know, fit, a stiff sole will do a better job of limiting hot spots at the cleat/pedal interface on the feet. After having spent 15,000-ish miles in the Torch 2.0 shoes, I could feel a big improvement going from them to the S-Works shoes.
Next we have the space-grade materials in the S-Works shoes against the thermoplastic polyurethane and mesh construction of the Torch 2.0s. Before we get into the whole “space” thing, the mesh and TPU construction of the Torch shoes is excellent and exceedingly comfortable. They’re fantastic. Having put in some hard miles on the S-Works models, I never wished I’d switched sooner. The S-Works’ leather and Dyneema panels, however, are outrageously wonderful. It’s pretty simple, really; there’s no question the Torch shoes punch above their weight, but S-Works is still S-Works.
As for those Dyneema Panels, the designer of the shoe described them thusly (according to Bike Radar):
“The single-layer base synthetic is selected as it has adaptive stretch for comfort in the forefoot, lateral side and ball area,” explained the shoe’s designer, Rob Cook. “The Dyneema material is actually a film holding a custom lay-up of ultra-fine Dyneema strands. These strands do not stretch at all and we have placed them in an orientation to hold the foot. Bonding this to the synthetic creates zones of absolute non-stretch for locking the foot in place. The film is still soft and flexible. Applying this film means we can tune the fit of the upper in zones without cutting and joining separate parts with seams.”
Well, alrighty then.
Next up is the one category where the Torch 2.0 shoes punch above the S-Works; weight. My S-Works 6 shoes are 440 grams for the pair. The Torch’s only weigh 30 grams more. For the pair. Looking strictly from a weight standpoint, the S-Works shoes, after tax are just shy of a Dollar per gram. The Torch 2.0s are just 36 cents per gram. Chalk one up for the Torch 2.0.
To make a whole lot of science-y stuff into a nice little ball, the science backed up my experience and my opinion; if you’ve got the money, the S-Works shoes are phenomenal and exceedingly comfortable and awesome. On the other hand, if you don’t, the Specialized’s Torch 2.0 punch well above their price tag and are more than enough shoe for the fastest club rides. Mine have been excellent for years (that shoe above has more than 15,000 miles on it and still looks that good).
Are S-Works Cycling Shoes That Much Better Than Torch 2.0 Shoes? The Simple Differences Between a $150 and a $400 Pair of Cycling Shoes
Are S-Works shoes that much better than their sibling, the Torch 2.0?
This post is going to be in two parts – first, the simple “touchy, feely” differences, then I’ll get into the technical end of things for part two. Let’s begin.
A friend of mine who has a wonderful life, a fantastic sugar mama, and a penchant for expensive cycling shoes (and bikes for that matter), had two pair of S-Works shoes laying around that he didn’t wear anymore and asked if I was interested in them – it just so happens we wear the exact same size shoe.
And so, even though I would never try to afford one, let alone two pair of S-Works shoes (I’m more a Torch 2.0 at $150 guy), I can now comment on the differences betwixt the two classes of cycling shoe and make a fair judgement on whether or not the S-Works are worth the extra $250. Keep in mind, please, that this is entirely opinion-based at this point. We can get into the science in the next post.
So, the Specialized Torch 2.0 shoe retailed for $150 a couple of years ago. They’re $160 today. The Torch 2.0 is, without question, one of the better carbon fiber soled shoes on the market at that price. Most brands are still stuck on plastic soles at that price. I have a pair, my wife has a pair, and several of my friends roll with them as well. They’re a great value and very comfortable.
The Torch 2.0 uses the IP-1 Boa closure with one long lace wrapped around three loops to snug the shoe up where the more expensive shoes use two Boa (S2) closures with smaller loops, each around one eyelet loop. Both the S-Works and the Torch 2.0 use a Velcro strap just above the toes.
The fit of the Torch 2.0 is fantastic and they’re incredibly comfortable and well built. I’ve had my pair three seasons now and while some of the cloth piping around the tongue and cuff is starting to fray, I’m certain I’ll get another season or two out of them. Simply put, they’re exceptional shoes and a fantastic bargain at $160.
The S-Works shoe is like sliding your foot into a bed of butter next to the Torch. My feet, in the Torch, get tired around 70 miles. With the S-Works shoe, my feet feel fantastic well after that point.
Also, there’s no question, two Boas are better than one. The fit is vastly improved when you can choose how tight to crank down each dial.
Another difference is in weight. The S-Works shoes are noticeably lighter but not near what you’d think for the sticker price. In fact, the difference is so minimal, weight is probably an advantage to the Torch 2.0s (!).
Finally, there’s power to the pedal. You can feel the difference, undoubtedly. I have no idea the stiffness difference between the two shoes but it’s significant (I’ll explore that in the next, more technical post).
Those are the differences, but what about the question posed in the Title? Is a pair of S-Works shoes worth the money?
The answer to this question is… complex. The S-Works shoes are awesome and clearly a cut (or three) above the Torch 2.0s. In every category, from fit to feel to weight and performance, the S-Works shoes are stellar. The Torch 2.0 is still a phenomenal shoe and worth far more than the $160 price tag. With a pair on your feet, lining up with the fastest of cyclists, they’ll be enough, I have no doubt. The answer, and this is rare in cycling, is the S-Works shoes are only worth the money if you’ve got it to burn. If you don’t, if you have to watch every cycling Dollar you spend, get a pair of the Torch 2.0 (or better, the 3.0 for that two-Boa fit) and don’t worry a bit about your shoes. The 2.0s or 3.0s are all you’ll need to roll with the best. I can say this confidently as I have for three years with mine.
I know when I’m not in the right place mentally because I start looking at how the behavior of others needs to change. Usually, the simplest way for me to see this flaw in thinking is to read a passage in, say, the Daily Reflections and I’ll think, “man, it’d be great if so-and-so read this!” That’s usually referring to my wife, but not exclusively (my wife is the closest person to me, obviously, so it makes sense she’s under the most scrutiny when I’m wrong).
Each and every time I think someone else would do good to read a passage I just read, the answer is to look at the one thing on Earth I can change; me. It’s not anyone else. It’s not my wife. It’s not my kids. It’s not my colleagues or cycling buddies. If I’m looking at how they need to change, I’m signing myself up for misery, disappointment and often misguided arrogance that leads inextricably to ignorance. There is no “yeah, but”.
So last night I’m reading the day’s passage from the Daily Reflections and sure enough I thought, about halfway through, that my wife needs to read this! I thought about texting it to her as a second thought. My third was, “Oh f***, I’d better read that again.”
It was then I remembered my old sponsor and the single greatest relationship advice I’ve ever been given; “Jimmy, sometimes you wanna throw ’em like a lawn dart but you just gotta love ’em.”
Recovery never gets old. I just get better at it.
The sun rises and sets on my wife, and I needed to remember that. I thank God for everything I’ve had to go through to get to where I’m at. Every lesson I’ve learned has led to the point where, if I just work on the fella inside my personal space, happy, joyous and free is normal. The old addict is still there, but I’ve gotten much better and faster at pushing him back in the cage where he belongs. After that I just have to remember the door to the cage isn’t locked.
This week’s Tuesday Night In Lennon was one of those strange rides that never should have been as excellent as it was…
A cold front had blown through just an hour before the warm-up was to start. We had rain, wind and gnarly skies galore, but the radar was promising after 5pm. I pulled the Trek out of the trunk (no chance I was bringing the Venge, we’d have gotten wet for sure). It was just Dave, Chucker and I for the warm-up and we started out mercifully slow in the sunshine and on wet roads, with steam rising off the wet asphalt. I was feeling the previous day’s tennis beatdown all over but after the first mile we started picking up the pace to a point we were maintaining 20-ish-mph and the tennis pain washed away. We also added on an extra couple of miles because we had some time to spare and the roads had begun to dry out to a point we were more on dry than wet roads.
We reached the parking lot to wait for the ride proper to start and the skies were looking ugly again. Looking at the clouds, they were dark and foreboding but they weren’t rain clouds. Some were wondering whether we were going to get wet, but I was fairly confident we’d be okay. Even so, I never mentioned the “r” word (though someone else did, so it’s a freaking miracle we didn’t get rained on). We let the A riders go first and rolled out with nine in a double pace-line. The first five miles were fast and enjoyable but we had some work to do once we turned south. Even with a mild headwind we held a decent pace. We had three new (to the B Group) riders and they held on admirably – one taking every one of his turns up front. We had a 22-mph average at one point but that got eaten up in the headwind.
I can’t remember exactly when, but Chucker called for a single-file pace-line and it dawned on me we should have been doing that from the start – our average would have been a lot faster because only six of us were actually doing any pulling. The single-file line was fast and we were getting a good rest before pulling again so the pace picked up considerably.
I did the lead-out for the first City Limits sign, but took the finish in a nice little sprint. The whole entire ride was enjoyable. I had to work several times, but it wasn’t so bad I couldn’t enjoy the effort. With only Scott left of the new riders (to our group – the three have been riding with the club for years, and Scott was a regular B years prior) on the main bunch, we pulled across the line with a 21.5-mph average (35-kmh).
I had fun the whole way. Almost as if I’d gotten away with something because as cold, wet and crappy as it was just before the warm-up, that ride was a blast. It was all hi-fives and fist bumps after the ride. It’ll never cease to amaze me how fortunate we are to have our group. I’d ride alone if I had to, but it wouldn’t be near as fun.
I’ve taken Mondays off for the last three weeks, either for rain or just because. I always feel a little rough on the warm-up for Tuesday night, though, and I don’t like it. I’ve been thinking, maybe if I shake things up a bit and do something different…
My eldest daughter had to work Father’s Day afternoon so she wasn’t able to play putt-putt with us. With power out at the office yesterday due to a fire at a neighboring building, we all headed for home to work. My daughter asked if we could go play tennis to make up for Father’s Day proper. I jumped at the chance. It’s been a while since we hit last.
The warm-up was fine and I learned I’m quite rusty after a full spring of getting reacclimated with tennis.
Then the match started. Bella’s gotten considerably better since the last time we played but I’d found my old cut serve where I can impart enough spin to make the ball make a left turn, then bounce even further left on landing. I handcuffed my daughter twice and took the first game. We played to deuce in the second but she held on to her service to even the score. She broke my serve the next game and never looked back, destroying me. She’d drop little lobs just over the net, then smash passing shots if I was lucky enough to return the first shot. I had a few flashes of brilliance but was terribly out of practice and Bella smelled blood in the water.
I did, however, find my serve for a minute and smashed two aces that had her lock up and just watch them pass… but that was about it for me. My kid dismantled me.
I loved that my daughter could take me apart like that. She’s got a lot of talent.
Unfortunately, when I woke up this morning my shoulder felt like it had fallen asleep. I raised my arm to put my robe on and I felt gravel in my rotator cuff. I tried to raise it to the side and it went dead about halfway up. I was nervous. I’ve known I damaged the rotator years ago, playing softball, but if I warmed up and threw properly, I could make it through a game no problem… but this trouble was new. It’s since warmed up and I don’t have any problems lifting my arm anymore, but I know what’s coming down the road. I’m going to talk to a doctor friend and hope I can let this go for a while until it becomes a real issue but I’m putting off the inevitable. I know what comes next.
Methinks it might be time to ease up on the serves, though… It’s not like I’m 30 anymore.
It’s rare we ride with a destination stop in mind… normally, it’s a place we’ll go into the wind so it can push us home… we stop at convenience stores mostly, or gas stations – anything that will get the water bottles topped off and maybe a snack in the belly. Except when we go to Brighton. Brighton is a destination stop at a bakery that serves coffee.
The start of the ride sucks. Bad asphalt and a lot of up, but once we get off the choppy roads, after six or seven miles, things improve considerably and it just gets better from there.
Somewhere around 20 miles in we hit my old stomping grounds, where I grew up as a kid. I just love riding the familiar roads and feeling “at home”.
There are a couple of exceptional climbs heading into Brighton and I’m in my glory as we pull around the corner at Mt. Brighton – an old landfill converted into a ski hill.
Then into the City of Brighton, Mike was toying with me about going after the Limits sign. I launched off the front to nab it and coasted waiting for everyone else to catch up.
Rolling into downtown, we stop at the bakery for a snack and a drink. Chuck and Mike both choose a cinnamon roll and I go for one as well. My wife gets a chocolate milk and a Coke. That cinnamon roll should probably be illegal…
And after a few laughs and a nice break we rolled out.
My wife was struggling to get going after the break, though she showed significant improvement after she got a few miles to warm up again.
The rest of the ride home was a blast. I ended up with 76 miles and an 18-mph average. Perfect for an extended Father’s Day Sunday Funday.
On returning home, showering and eating, it was nap time and it was glorious. Then, up and about. My wife’s dad and stepmom, up from Tennessee, stopped by and we all went to the local putt-putt golf joint for a family tradition. Putt-putt was awesome and after a six on 17, I had a feeling my wife was crushing me. Everyone had a hole-in-one but me, too. My father-in-law had three for God’s sake. However, I pulled off a miracle shot on 18 and drained a 60’ downhill bank-shot for mine. My wife scored a four or five and I won by a stroke.
Finally, we had our in-laws over for a roast beef dinner that my wife knocked out of the park. My favorite.
Approaching 8pm, my family played a dice game (Zilch) and I fell asleep on the couch. I know I went to bed at some point but I know this only because that’s where I woke up. I slept like a baby.
And so it was, a happy dad’s day indeed.
240 miles for the week in 13.8 hours for an average pace of 17.4 mph. Good times and noodle salad.