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kjpepperI forgot the cardinal rule of temperate zone weather. cloudless sky + winter(ish) + wind = cold as mammoth shit in a glacier. Jeezus.
Despite the seriously frozen fingers (mental note: gloves = a winner is you) I did have a good ride... though ow, I should really get out there more often. 16 miles of mostly flat road shouldn't kill me like this. I'm sore in both arms and across the shoulders, and my thighs feel a bit like they've ballooned to twice their size, which is amusing considering what size they are to begin with. Still, with german angst techno plugged into my ears it was a fairly enjoyable trip. Just friggin' cold. And there are still a couple of frozen patches on the norwottock trail I had to dodge.
Weirdness/randomness for the day:
I have declared this officially be-nice-to-my-insides week, and trying to stick to eating stuff that won't make my ass explode (with the exception of whatever![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sundart plans on cooking up with that buttermilk later) of course, within an hour of deciding that as I wandered through Thornes I ran across a gaggle of girl scouts armed with cookies. Oh yeah, March. Cookie season. *facepalm* My ass, sadly, won over my freakishly intense desire for Samoas *drool*... don't think bits of caramel coated coconut counts as being good to my intestines.
seriously dead dog dumped under 91. Never understood how roadkill could be both gross and sad at the same time.
wow, don't do the trail heading west at just before sunset. Ow my eyes, ow the glass, ow. On the other hand, you have to wonder how many beer bottles went into that trail.
I think I'm going to wash some dishes, and then curl up in bed with The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant and occasionally poke the swollen muscles between my knees and my hips for the rest of the evening. And drink mad amounts of water.
Despite the seriously frozen fingers (mental note: gloves = a winner is you) I did have a good ride... though ow, I should really get out there more often. 16 miles of mostly flat road shouldn't kill me like this. I'm sore in both arms and across the shoulders, and my thighs feel a bit like they've ballooned to twice their size, which is amusing considering what size they are to begin with. Still, with german angst techno plugged into my ears it was a fairly enjoyable trip. Just friggin' cold. And there are still a couple of frozen patches on the norwottock trail I had to dodge.
Weirdness/randomness for the day:
I have declared this officially be-nice-to-my-insides week, and trying to stick to eating stuff that won't make my ass explode (with the exception of whatever
sundart plans on cooking up with that buttermilk later) of course, within an hour of deciding that as I wandered through Thornes I ran across a gaggle of girl scouts armed with cookies. Oh yeah, March. Cookie season. *facepalm* My ass, sadly, won over my freakishly intense desire for Samoas *drool*... don't think bits of caramel coated coconut counts as being good to my intestines.seriously dead dog dumped under 91. Never understood how roadkill could be both gross and sad at the same time.
wow, don't do the trail heading west at just before sunset. Ow my eyes, ow the glass, ow. On the other hand, you have to wonder how many beer bottles went into that trail.
I think I'm going to wash some dishes, and then curl up in bed with The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant and occasionally poke the swollen muscles between my knees and my hips for the rest of the evening. And drink mad amounts of water.
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Date: 2004-03-13 05:56 pm (UTC)2) See, where I grew up (and was a Girl - not "Gril" as I originally typed - Scout for twelve years) cookie season was in November. We always had the cookies arriving right before Thanksgiving. I guess they stagger production around the year so the cookie factory can crank 'em out continuously.
3) Aww... poor dog.