Week in Review

Argh - too much work, another overdue post.

Saturday. JK was out for the weekend, so with nobody to meet, I lazed around all morning, eating a gigantic bowl of steel cut oats, toast, and a fried egg over easy for breakfast. I like my oats with a banana, peanut butter, toasted pecans, and jam. This billion calorie breakfast had me in a deep food coma by the time I headed out at 10:30 for a long spin out to Mt. Diablo.

For a change, I took North Gate up - much tougher than South Gate as it turns out. It had been years since I last took that route, and the steep pitches wore me out. By the time I got to Juniper, about 2/3 of the way up the mountain, I was cold and hungry, and I realized I'd be pushing darkness. So I rolled back down and booked it to the Walnut Creek Starbucks, where I had a snack while watching the luxury sport cars and overdressed shoppers cruise by. Ladies - a word to the wise - nothing says "Lady Douchebag" like Ugg boots.

And nothing says "Lord Douchebag" like going to this attorney for your divorce. I would love to see that waiting room, though. ESPN in HD, swimsuit magazines, beer on tap, and a bunch of bitter dudes. "Bitches, man. All bitches."

As a Bay Area food snob, I'm little ashamed to admit that I love Starbucks as a mid- or post-ride stop. Their turkey bacon and egg sandwich was just the right amount of hot salty goodness, and a mocha gave me the sugar and caffeine needed to make it through Lafayette and back to Berkeley via half-Happy and Wildcat Canyon. A gorgeous fall day on the bike. Here's the view from Juniper Campground.

Sunday. The usual loop up Tunnel and back. In the afternoon, La Roleurette and I set up our new ping pong table which we picked up off Craigslist for $40.

Monday. No spin. Work.

Wednesday. Pre-work Arlie Cat Golf ride. Check out my anti-gravity Specialized gloves. Told you they were cool.

Thursday. Up Shasta at a frantic pace before work.

I learned that Jake - friend of a friend - will be in town in early December, and wants to go on a ride. Ed, another buddy, will probably come along. These guys were collegiate rowers. They love Pain. Pain is like their BFF. If they were sorority girls, Pain would be holding their hair up while they puked in the toilet.

Sadly for me, neither has let themselves go. Jake is a hardcore Colorado cyclist (altitude advantage), and Ed finished an Ironman this summer. They will tear my legs off, grind them into mincemeat, bake them into a Shepherd's pie (Ed is British), then feed the pie to their dog. Then they will make the dog chase a ball for hours till it collapses in a puddle of its own vomit. And they will not hold its hair up. Jerks. So I'm a little motivated to get in better shape.