Up and at ’em early on a Sunday. Sleep is for pussies. Straight up got my ride on.
This is the nearest I’ve been to a ski lift in years. Earn your turns, son.
I turned down an invite to a brutal group ride on what, by all accounts, may be the hottest day of the year here in Flagstaff. They’re saying it will hit 98 today. 90 mile ride with 5,000 ft of climbing? Half of it 2,000 feet lower (and hotter) than here? Nah. I’ll pass.
And I say that only because it would kill me. I’m not much looking to die today. Just dance with the devil in the pale moon light.
I even stopped on the way down to snap this pic, Strava segment be damned. I notice this view every time I do this decent. And I think of it, sometimes, on about a Tuesday afternoon when I’m knee deep in the shit, sitting behind a desk, getting that money. We do what we can, right?
I’ll look at this photo next week. It will focus my efforts and get me through. I’ll be back next weekend, and I’ll see that view again.
The bike, she always waits.by