... that I bailed on BOTH group rides this weekend. Not that I had signed up or even verbally committed to anyone other myself, Meghan (and I guess anyone reading this). It just didn't happen... and the blame falls on me... and Summertime Booze.
Friday was Meghan's and my 16th Anniversary of Meeting at a Mexican Restaurant after the CycleTherapy Group Ride. She blocked off most of the day and by late morning we were out running errands then settling into for an afternoon of lounging and sipping. Beer & tacos at Loco Patron, wine sipping at Phoenix Wine... then home to just hang with Bea.
I woke up Saturday morning, sluggish. The cheap wine had caught up to me the night before and sleep had been crappy. Still I got up, shrugged it off and after a swim & a tempo session on the Zwift bike, I felt good. Still the plan had been to go out to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. Get there early, place is PACKED and the wait is 90 minutes. Leave, find another Mexican place. It sucks. Find another place to hang out. It's better. Head home, drop in a local bar... end up hanging out. Meghan is sipping some wine and I start sipping gin mules.
It's 10:30... and the liquor has hit. Hard. She drives us home. Wake up the next morning and... fuck, it's rough. Needless to say, I never made it out of bed in time to even load up. Even this morning I woke up worn out from trying to recover from the hangover.
Still... as I read folks' Facebook/Insta posts, there was no remorse. Meghan and I talked in length this past weekend about how cycling USED to be versus how it is NOW. That's where I started going in that last blog post about the Bike Culture. Social media has crept into everything and when I read these posts, the FOMO (fear of missing out) dissipates and I ease back into the idea that cycling is mine... and I do not have to share if I do not want to.
Later.
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