Last Saturday, I rode east through the valley farmlands toward the foothills. There is a small town with fine German heritage and a newly spruced up abbey sitting atop a small hill overlooking the town and the rest of the valley. Feeling good after Friday's ride, I decided I would ride all the way there, up to the top and back, about 40 miles.
I felt fine for a while and suffered a little on the short but steep climb up to the abbey. The weather was hot - 80 degrees - so I kept tanking water and grabbed some of the limited variety of ready-made pocket food I can eat with my allergies to keep fluid and energy levels up. I was riding into a little headwind for a few miles going home when it hit. The BONK.
I could not keep the pedals going. It wasn't long before I started cramping and I still had about 14 miles home. I feel a bit lame, but it was not fun. The good news was I felt fine the next day.
The bad news is the girls, all three of them ended up puking this weekend. I think my youngest brought it home Friday. Momma and oldest were hit Saturday night and I spent the next two days trying to mop up the aftermath and am still trying to catch back up with the work I missed Monday and Tuesday. There is truly nothing more disgusting than a child who's just tall enough to get some distance with no concept of the vomit reflex wandering around. Thank goodness for laminate flooring.
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