Here's an interesting irony: I'm writing a wednesday night ride report even though I didn't actually go on the WNR last night. Why me?
Well, Brauer just rolled in looking peckish. It's 4:30 in the afternoon. Sov and Nick are both scabbed and bruised and look like they slept in a squirrels' nest. And then there are the comments, sporadically arising between phone calls and extended periods of labored breathing, such as:
"My ass still stinks. I can't believe it. I only ate eight of them."
"You wouldn't be able to smell it yet, it just happened."
Stories keep bubbling up too, like EazyP.Z. riding over GO's bike after a failed top tube bike surf attempt, which GO escaped from without injury, landing on his feet like a cat. I am somehow both sorry and glad I didn't make it out last night.