By virtue of a scheduling fluke, I found myself in a position to log just my second 100-mile week of the year -- and in the middle of December no less. I know that 100 miles in a week is small change compared to the 250-mile, 20+ hour weeks put up by riders chronicled in Bicycling, but I have a full-time job, a commute, a wife, and it's December, so let me enjoy this small victory in my life.

Praise treesus	Pb and bread -- pure energy	Feel the burn

Not so fast. I had to do a 45-miler today to reach 100 for the week. At 11:00 AM this morning, that seemed like a lock, but as is my norm, I let the hours drag into the deep afternoon and then I was hemmed in by diurnal factors. And I also gave long thought to such considerations as: it's December and shouldn't I take the extra hour to be with JB or work in the yard rather than use it to do an extra 10 miles that don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things (whatever that is). Or is this the rationalizing and negative predeterminism that has kept me from reaching my true potential. I guess it depends on whether you're asking JB or Tony Robbins.

I decided to do a Lobitos loop (coastal bikepath-Cabrillo-Lobitos-Tunitas-Verde-Higgins/Purissima-Half Moon Bay-coastal bikepath), but I couldn't remember if it was 35 or 45 miles. I thought it was 35, 45 if I went up to Skyline and back. Not sure whether I'd have time for the climb up to Skyline, I decided to mostly play it by ear. I really only had two hours of daylight to work with though, so, even aboard the Blade, there was never any chance of doing the climb and thus the quest for 100 was over before I even left the EG.

It was a GORE-gess day today -- completely clear, with a warm southerly breeze. There were some real cold pockets inland in the canyons and hollows, and in these spots the road was also wet and very slick. Mostly it was an inviting sun- and shadow-dappled landscape. Along the coastal bikepath, just barely visible over the blufftop ledge, large, vaporous tendrils of spray were peeling off the wave crests and getting immediately ripped up and away by the wind. The waves looked exactly like the team-of-white-stallions-as-crashing-waves print Crystal used to have. Today that print makes sense, because the waves really did look like the white stallions with the peeling vapor swirling around like a collection of flowing white manes.

I'm still trying to do the majority of my climbing in the saddle, but this is first time I've ridden the Blade since that training edict went into practice. It'll just take a little getting used to, but it was pretty tough to stay seated on some of the climbs today, and this was a pretty mild hill course. Late in the ride, all that staying in the saddle was taxing me pretty heavily and I started to zone out. Unaware, I ran over some barbed wire that for some reason had been played out from a roadside spool into the road. I pulled over to check out my tires, which were fine, and stepped into a mind warp. Stillness. The half moon was well risen. A hawk shrieked. A dog barking somewhere up the valley. Water gurgling along the creekbed down in the trees. If the moment was being filmed, it would be done in one of those slow-motion, 360-degree Matrix shots, sounds included. A pretty soupy moment.

I had made peace with my 90-mile week. It didn't matter, the mileage, the time, the average speed, the maximum speed -- it's all just numbers. I'm out here because I like getting exercise, I like being out in the countryside, and I like cycling. Working on the core enthusiasm is probably the most valuable thing I can do for my 2005 riding, and packing on an extra unwanted 10 miles just to meet an arbitrary number ain't gonna help morale any. I got home just at dark, giving JB and I the rest of the evening to enjoy each other's company.

Spied a couple of hawks circling and foraging along the coastal trails.