The plan was to go long. In the end I took the shortest possible route home.
Yesterday riding in I was pretty beat, which was understandable after a pretty good weekend, but a fellow commuter spurred me on to a decent ride in.
After not riding home Monday, I thought I'd be raring to go tonight. My workday was a little longer than planned, but everything had gone as planned; no added stress.
Things started well; initially I was maintaining a pretty good clip without too much effort.
Then I turned.
Guess I was enjoying a tailwind.
Then I hit the grated pavement. I pushed hard to keep momentum over the broken pavement. On the first little rise, I felt like someone was pulling me backwards.
Maybe I'd ride to Talcott Notch, and see how I was feeling? If I perked up, I'd keep heading North, if not, I could turn for home.
Didn't even get close before I abandoned that plan.
I slunk my way home.
Over the weekend my Dad, who is a pretty smart guy, told me of these things called "anti-inflammatory drugs". Oddly enough my friend Steve had brought up these mysterious marvels of modern science as well. James had heard of them too, and also recommended trying them.
Food for thought...