Yesterday I wanted to swing some golf clubs so badly it hurt. But it was deadly frelling hot outside, so I held back.
We waited as late as we could, then trekked off for a several-mile ride & some swimming. I put in a little over 3 trips swimming back & forth across the lake, at the end of which calorie debt was kicking in. That cookie I ate right before hopping on the bike had given its all, and I was having to tap into my built-in energy reserves.
I never made it to bed until probably 1:30 a.m. or so afterward, because after a quite successful conversation in Spanish with some of the guys at my favorite Mexican restaurant (in which we discussed tattoos and tasty latinas) I was really jazzed up & wound up studying much later than normal.
What does Spanish have to do with trekking? Well, not much if I never plan to trek beyond my oh-so-white neighborhood. As much as I love tequila, Mexican food, the Spanish language (with which I have just a tiny bit of proficiency), and latin music, my best bud says that one day I'm going to go for a quick visit to Mexico and never be seen again. ;)
If so, I'd better have a great bike!