|what my domestique did on his day off|
I rolled up at 8.30 or so, no sign of the Mules trailer but Sean's truck (complete with "running sucks" sticker) was there. He of course was long gone. I got all dolled up, turned on the Garmin and hit the road, straight into the teeth of a screaming wind from the south.
I didn't have to fight it for long though, the route is mostly north and I flew along in fine style, with of course a sense of impending doom - before too long I'd be coming back, probably one entire chain ring slower.
Not many wildflowers to be seen, sadly - a little early in the year but we've had so little rain, I suspect they won't get much better. Halfway down Laneview, normally wildflower paradise in the spring, I got "chased" by perhaps the crappest dog I've ever seen on a bike. He looked like a collie/chihuahua cross, with a normal-sized torso suspended on teeny-tiny little legs. He barked at me and gave chase - but from the other side of the road, clearly he was not allowed to cross. I yelled at him half-heartedly and put on a bit of a spurt but we were both going through the motions.
After the usual gas station break I put my best pedal forward and prepared for the upwind slog. It was a grind but in the end not that bad, clearly all the saddle time is having a beneficial effect. I got back with an average speed of just under 16mph, really not bad under the circumstances.
I later learned from Kevin that he had spent the day helping right over-turned canoes in the Buffalo Bayou regatta. Once a domestique, always a domestique, even on his day off.