It was a weekday. I was contemplating my activities for the day when Brian sent me a message: "Ride at lunch?"
Are you kidding me? A ride with my husband and I didn't have to go to the trouble of finding a babysitter? I was SO IN.
Except really, I wasn't.
I had trouble even making it to Hartman Rocks. Once there, my heart rate was 15 beats higher than normal going up Jack's and I even had to stop and rest going up Beck's.
Uh...what the?? I never have to stop going up those trails. In fact, the more I climb, the better I feel as a general rule.
It was true. I felt like shit. I was so so tired. I called it at the top of Beck's. I had to go home, throw my body on the couch and not get up until I was too hungry to continue laying there without irritation.
What a bummer. A rare chance to ride with my husband and I couldn't even hang. He's a sweet guy and happily turned around with me, even though I told him about 500 times to finish his ride. He may have even helped push me home.
View of the smoke from the fires south of us. Cough cough.
That afternoon, I think I slept a good two hours. I usually nap for 15 minutes or so and that was a pretty damn good indicator that DUDE WTF ARE YOU THINKING TAKE A REST.
We did casually stroll out to the I Bar on our cruiser bikes that night. No harm done on the 3 mile round trip, I promise.
I vowed to listen to my body. I had an 80 mile ride planned the next day but I woke up and just knew. THAT was not going to happen. Instead, I drove around a bunch of forest roads, took some pictures, and went on a short hike up the Swampy Pass trail. The wildflowers were on steroids so the views were extra awesome.
And, yeah. I shot this picture of myself. In one shot. I'm pretty damn proud of that.
Then. Then, I STILL wasn't feeling 100%. So I went to the river, laid my body on a flat rock, stuck my feet in and read a book.
Finally. Finally, I started to feel better.
Rivers are like that. They make you feel better.
