I ‘sag-wagoned’ today
Whenever Larry took off for a leisurely bike ride, I worried. Too many motorists aren’t paying attention. And those were rides in our hometown, on familiar roads, and at most a few hours long.
Since on the road, he’s taken a few training rides plus three full days on his cross country tour and my hair is falling out.
Let me explain another way, I love my husband very much. Yes, I give him grief. (And he gives it right back, I just don’t include it in my blog, why give him more kudos?) When he hops on his bike, my heart gets heavy and I imagine all the negative possibilities. And I worry.
Lynx tracks in the side of the road
I saw Larry at the bottom of his second peak today. He waved ‘stop’ as I tooted my horn three times.
“What ya thinking or need?” I asked.
“I need a kiss, to start with.” He said, his face dripping with sweat.
“Hot, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Truck says it’s 91. You gonna continue on?”
“I don’t know, I’m trying to decide.” He answered.
“Well, I’m the one who insisted you cover 100 miles a day, to keep you to your word. It’s what you told everybody. But you’re losing weight Larry, I noticed it last night. And you’ve only just begun. I’m worried about you. Please consider calling it a day.”
He stood a few minutes in the broiling sun while we talked some more.
I hated to sabotage his bragging rights, but it was me or an Uber or an ambulance.
“Will you be ok, with the manly part, if you stop and take rest for the afternoon?” I asked.
“Yes, I don’t have any macho thing to prove. Besides, I get to spend the afternoon with you, my favorite person.”
And with that he put up his bike, changed his shoes and hopped into the truck.
We found the most amazing pet groomer and trimmed the dogs nails.
Aunt Jenny
Then we went and drank beer and ate dinner, and socialized.
Amazing Flight of Beer, Republic Brewing
Dogs with grooming bow ties.
Tomorrow Larry will tackle the worst mountain of all, Sherman Pass at 5,575 feet.
FYI, I made sure he ate a fattening meal.
Clyde, the camp robber of affection.
