Breakfast, the most important meal of the day.

That faint smile on my face is a fake--it's me trying to put on a good show though I'd just completely bonked on the first day of the Hilly Hundred this past weekend down in Bloomington. For some reason, they stopped breakfast early on Saturday so all C and I had was a small banana each, and that wasn't enough. It was too bad, because I love riding my bike up and down hills, but all day my legs just had nothing.

The next morning, we erred on the side of eating too much by going to the Runcible Spoon, which, along with the Trojan Horse and the Book Corner comprise the remaining unchanged parts of Bloomington--the parts that still look the same as they did when I went to school there. As usual, I ordered two of the huge Runcible Spoon pancakes and only ate one, and that was just the fuel I needed for a nice day of hill climbing. Totally different experience. The best part was drafting up a hill behind two farmers in this jeep/atv kind of thing full of firewood. They kept looking back and laughing at me as I pedaled along, passing all the punters who couldn't hitch on.

And the low of the weekend was passing the dude lying on his face in the middle of the road groaning. We'd been riding with his group earlier in the day but C and I could tell that they clearly didn't know anything about riding as a pack, so we stopped for a bit and let them get away. Sure enough, not more than an hour later, we pass them all huddled around their comrade asking if he was okay. There but for the grace etc.