Foggy Mornings

Thursday mornings are best served with coffee and a dash of weekend dreams. But with Musselman Sprint and Half-Ironman rearing their buggardly little heads on the July calendar, Alaina and I hit the dirt roads extra early for a two hour ride before work.

For some reason, it was down into the 40s this morning, so we donned some Fall riding gear and set out...without the coffee. *sad face* The one downside to riding the dirt country roads is the lack of espresso bars on the farms. Someone needs to remedy this.

Prepping rituals

I call this stretch of road The Prologue. It's a flat, neatly tree lined road that leads into Barton Hills, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in town, and a good place to take in those sweet summery smells.

American poet, Carl Sandburg, writes that the fog comes on little cat feet, but we caught it on deer hooves this morning. Click the pic to see the young buck.

Alaina cruises ahead while I enjoy the idyllic white fence of an equestrian center on the right.

Fired up and ready to go play with some rats at work.