After starting the Holiday week with the flu and traffic school, I rallied in time for Thanksgiving. I passed the day with friends as we played croquet, ate ham, fried yet another turkey, and eventually sat around a backyard fire burning acres of pine straw. If you live anywhere near Lee Avenue, we officially have no idea where all the smoke came from.
By Saturday, I was half-way through a four day weekend and had yet to throw leg over saddle and giddy-up. The 30+ mile ride of the previous Saturday left me vulnerable to the flu-bug, which grabbed me by the throat and choke-slammed me to the mat.
Apathy and lethargy reigned, and not a single rider would join me Saturday. Never one afraid to put the work in, I picked up my shovel and headed north, shoveling coal in the furnace as hard as I could. The Live Oak Connector quite literally knocked the snot out of me, as the remnants of the flu sprayed and spewed over jersey, gloves, top tube, oak tree, hill and dale.
Stoically, I churned through the woods, up the powerline trail and into the Lake Overstreet trails. Not a soul did I see.
Yesterday, more coal shovelin’. Another 20 + miles into a headwind south to Munson, where S’quatch waged a manic war against himself, joyously sprinting away, then stopping to conduct nature lessons with grimy redneck children, or holding forth on the unique talents of Robert Downey Jr. Above it all, I bent to my labors and swung that shovel.
San Felasco ain’t got me licked yet.
Tomorrow I will be on the proving ground itself. Mystery, the untameable stallion, and I will be going to Ocala to collect Mel (Not his real name). He is coming direct from the mean streets of NYC to get shellacked on the podunk trails of central Florida. Must be nice. We’re going to drag him around San Felasco on a little recconoiter mission, then bring him back home for a few days of Southern Culture Reassignment Therapy. Come on over and help.
Bring your shovel.