I signed up for another group ride Friday. It runs the full length of Woodward Avenue, from the Fist to Pontiac and back. That’s 54 miles and it rolls in about a month. I’m not worried about my legs, but I am worried about my butt and hands. Time to toughen ’em both. So I headed out for a little toughening Monday. It was a good day for it — overcast and cool, a holiday so little traffic.
I put the chain on the big ring and let ‘er rip, with the intention of riding out for an hour and then coming back at the same pace, hoping to cover around 20 miles. I reached the outer limits of my safe-solo-travel-into-Detroit circle at 40 minutes, then came back the long way around, which is to say, in one 1.5-hour period, it was blight and industry and wealth and water and — as always, because this is Detroit — lots of liquor stores.
Didn’t quite make 20 miles. Google said I rode 17.5. But a good start.
And if there’s anything more boring than someone else’s workout, I don’t know what it is. But that was the weekend: It started with kundalini yoga and ended with beef on the grill. Funny what you can do in three days, without doing all that much other than eat and recreate a bit.
Well, there was the Liberace biopic. Not all that great, but it had its moments.
I had more to this entry, a few words about the big news here over the weekend — the potential of the sale of the DIA collection — but somehow I got signed out, and lost it all.
With that as an eff-you from my own site, I’m leaving early. Let’s hope it’s not an omen for the rest of the week.