Iron man

Insects, insects. Who'd'a thunk it that they were so like lemmings. As I ride my bike each day they are constantly trying to commit suicide. Some hurry into my path to be flattened while others leap into the spokes to vaporize. But most distressing have to be those whose morbid death ritual is to fly into my mouth; their final act always eliciting an immediate and dramatic coughing and hacking fit to rid myself of their wet corpses. Try as hard as I can I'm never long successful in retraining myself to always breathe out of my nose. The exercise and the heat demand quick lungfuls of air that my nostrils just can't keep up with.

Ok, so I got that off my chest.

Today was another good day. I have creamed all previous distance records so far with a 90 mile ride that took me just over eight hours of bike time. To talk about how exhausted I am seems pointless however I will note that on mile 88, just as I was on my last legs, fate throws me two simultaneous curve balls. One being the biggest hill encountered so far AND a big barking dog chasing me up it. Nowhere in the coast-to-coast biking manual does it say anything about dealing with a dog which is invariably faster than a cyclist going uphill. So from some primitive gene kicking in from the lower cortex I started screaming at it. I howled louder than it could howl at me. "Stay boy! Stay!!". Surprise, surprise apparently there was nothing in the dog's own handbook about a cyclist yelling at him so, lucky me, he went back to his yard and I completed both challenges to call it a day just south of the Georgia-Florida stateline.

Day 12