Change of Plans

Rolled out of bed this morning, all psyched to conquer the world—or at least, to face the final boss of training camp at Pipestone. But lo and behold, Mother Nature decided to throw a snow party. Just my luck, right? My outdoor escapades got tossed around like a salad, with my day of pedaling hard in the great outdoors morphing into a frantic retreat to Missoula.

Spent the day slaving away (you know, the usual grind), only to zip back home, trying to catch those elusive final rays of sunshine. And how did I mark my grand return? With a nap so glorious, I reckon I might’ve broken some sort of cosmic record.

Now, here’s the twist—my so-called recovery mission? It included more biking. Yep, off to the grocery store I went. Because apparently, that’s what peak “athlete-in-recovery mode” looks like: cruising for groceries on two wheels, in pursuit of milk and bread.

So, to encapsulate this whirlwind of a day in one word? ‘Recovery’. Kicked off with visions of athletic glory, only to wrap up with a gentle reminder to take it easy, one pedal stroke at a time. Cheers to life’s little surprises and detours. Sometimes, they’re the adventure we didn’t know we needed.