Late afternoon. Sun is already low, day has been long, head is rummy from too much.
Energy is middling, and falling, at best.
Ring ring! The voice on the other end sounds no more energetic, but still the question is posed:
Awash to the armpits in new-bike-smell, Greg easily motivates out the door. Enthusiasm infects, induces me to follow.
Little daylight left but the trails are quiet, summer-fading-to-fall light is exquisite, traction is superb.
Post-monsoonal trail alterations continue to catch us leaning.
Short hours later darkness forces us home, permagrins plastered to tired faces, joyous to have been out, to have expended energy, to have burned endorphins.