After 70 miles and four hard hours in the saddle I stumble in the door. I immediately put a pan on the stove with a pat of butter in it. In the pan go four eggs from our chickens (I like having chickens very much). A muffin goes into the toaster and I grab my new favorite thing, the Oster hand mixermadoodle! I put a banana, a handfull of blueberries, another handfull of blackberries, a few ounces of orange juice and four or five big soup spoonfulls of vanilla yogurt in the mixer cup, jar whateveritis. I blend it up then mix in two spoonfulls of peanutbutter in there. The eggs are done and go onto the muffins with plenty of salt. Then I sit down and eat the whole mess and enjoy the smoothie. Normally this should leave me bloated and full but it goes down and the satisfied belly and endorphins mix and I wonder why the heck I'm writing this instead of lying down for a quick nap.
It's a good life. I wish I could share this feeling with everyone.
In other news I'm behind on a couple of race reports but really I'm becoming as disinterested as everyone else. In the end you just have to race for yourself. A few people may care but mostly everyone is so self-involved with their own racing that they forget to even ask how your race went so I certainly can't expect anyone to read race reports with anything other than a passing glance. And I'm certainly not going to be casting any great impressions with my own mediocrity. So I'll do race reports when something strikes me but I'm going to try to liberate myself from this strange compulsion to report on every silly race.
The good thing, however, about race reports is that at least I write something. I'm sure nothing will come of it but I'm going to try to get back to just writing random shit. No one will read that either so that's fine. I just need to do something with words.