Traditionally, it hardly counts as a Thursday night ride if you’re home in bed before midnight and so, when it’s barely eleven and you’re already laying your head upon the pillow, you might think that a person could just as easily stayed home and not missed a thing.
But you’d be wrong, then, because—even in an abbreviated session—all the boxes were ticked.
Swimming, check, including back-floating and board-diving.
Beer-drinking, yep, an entire twelve-pack consumed and shared, quickly enough to stay fairly cold even on one of the warmest nights of summer so far.
An unnecessarily steep, although as-the-crow-flies direct route to the water: that, too, providing an unusual opportunity to join the throng as opposed to simply thronging ourselves.
And yes, a stealthy pelaton through the land of milk and honey, although its ingress would probably be characterized more as the domain of nettles and hobo-poop.
So…short, but sweet and fully satisfying in the end (not to mention the beginning and middle, as well), proving that it’s not necessary to stay up so late and overindulge so much that you’re hurling into a garbage can at work the next day. Of course, there’s a time and place for that, as well, but this time, and those places were sufficient, illustrating, as intended by this somewhat truncated effort, too, that less can sometimes be—if not more—at least plenty for plenty.
But you’d be wrong, then, because—even in an abbreviated session—all the boxes were ticked.
Swimming, check, including back-floating and board-diving.
Beer-drinking, yep, an entire twelve-pack consumed and shared, quickly enough to stay fairly cold even on one of the warmest nights of summer so far.
An unnecessarily steep, although as-the-crow-flies direct route to the water: that, too, providing an unusual opportunity to join the throng as opposed to simply thronging ourselves.
And yes, a stealthy pelaton through the land of milk and honey, although its ingress would probably be characterized more as the domain of nettles and hobo-poop.
So…short, but sweet and fully satisfying in the end (not to mention the beginning and middle, as well), proving that it’s not necessary to stay up so late and overindulge so much that you’re hurling into a garbage can at work the next day. Of course, there’s a time and place for that, as well, but this time, and those places were sufficient, illustrating, as intended by this somewhat truncated effort, too, that less can sometimes be—if not more—at least plenty for plenty.
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