Buck’s Tuesday Shop Ride Review

When you ignore your fiber supplements on the weekend while ingesting a largely liquid diet then your morning shit looks like The Challenger breaking up on re-entry. I learned that this morning and I believe it.

The best Russian Rye is supposedly baked at an industrial park in Colchester, Connecticut where the line spills into the streets. I learned that last night and I don’t believe it.

So, finally, after months of lifting heavy stacks and dreaming of the day, the shop rides started. While my gearing still gave me the shaft on the typical climbs I felt that I was, once again, A-group worthy. I spent a lot of time in the drops taking big pulls against the wild wind and my knees never once slapped against a hanging gut. I can remember trying to hang on to the A-group last year and giving up in about 90 seconds as I floated somewhere between the lead and secondary groups contemplating another year of 30-mile solo rides in the void.

My new 28-tooth wonder cassette should be in early next week. This little CNC miracle will give me the edge on all of Glastonbury’s HC climbs and mountain-top summit finishes.

Buck

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