I’m going to speak out of turn here, I’m sure, but there’s just a wonderful feeling when you know you have good legs when you start a ride.

We set out this morning for a spin. I had no particular route in mind because I didn’t know how far I’d be able to go. The Yankee is starting back into her competition training. Since she is going farther she should set the route. So she does and off we go through the neighborhood.

The first two-thirds of that leg is all downhill to the creek. And then you have to climb back out the other side. And it was there that I realized I had good legs today. I didn’t want to stay in the back. That was just slowing me down.

Usually I’m just trying to hang on, mind you.

I passed her and climbed to the top of the little hill that marks the intersection. Off we went up the back side of the local time trial route. At the end I got caught at the red light and waited for her. And then we were off into one of the bigger hills in town — which, I must stress, is only big in comparison.

I got down into something resembling my aerotuck and a little stretch at 36 miles per hour. Crossed the interstate overpass, took a right and hit the next big intersection. I was pretty sure that it was time for me to return home. My legs felt great and my lungs appreciated the exercise. My hands were tingling from compression of the ulnar nerves. My feet were tingling because I have a bad habit of point my toes down when I am too busy trying to breathe rather than concentrate on what I’m doing with the bike.

I could feel it starting in my neck, too, even if I was looking down more than out today. The neck and shoulders are what I’m pampering. Anyway, from standing here making the return route home would be about 18 miles. And I’d put a good 90 seconds into my lovely and competitive wife, who said she was no longer interested in hearing me complain about my form or fitness or anything.

Eighteen miles is nothing, mind you. For a frame of reference, 12-15 miles is a good warmup. I am taking the small steps approach.

So we watched football. I did a few things for work. We had tuna for dinner. We opened the windows.

I watched the first episode of 60 Minutes Sports and was underwhelmed. But at least there was whelming, right? A one-sided interview with USADA? A piece on Lionel Messi with the greatest strength being clips from his youth soccer highlights? How is it that you have an artist, the greatest player to play the game, perhaps ever, and the piece isn’t any stronger than that? They wrapped with re-tread piece from 60 Minutes. But that piece on Alex Honnold piece was incredible:

Here’s a National Geographic feature on him.

I’m finishing Wilson Faude’s Hidden History of Connecticut. It is well regarded, even by natives, for all of the small things you can learn in this text. My only problem with this book, so accurately titled, is that he waited until the very end to tell me there is a P.T. Barnum museum in Bridgeport. I must go.

We’re going to read the night away. This is pretty great.