I set out to ride 51 miles today, but cut it short out of fatigue and a threatening storm. I finished at 42 miles, though, which is now the place the mental wall is going up. Three times I’ve been to 42 miles now, and each has felt just about the most I could possibly do.
We discussed this at the bike shop this afternoon. Seems I should eat more.
Pictures from the trip? I took a few.
This is before I bottomed out:
And this is about the spot where my endurance betrayed me:
So I plodded on through much of my pre-planned course. Stopped to refill the drink bottles across the street from the old Bottle. (Wikipedia calls it a community, but that’s overstating the case.) The landmark has been gone for years, but it is still on state maps. Here’s the scene today:
