Worth two-hundred and twenty-two words

My camera battery is dead, so today's mountain bike ride in the 907 is without photo documentation. In lieu of images, here are a few word-pictures.

-Cool and wet and yet, here it is, mid-August
-Caught in Moose Jam along the trail
-Rooted, downright abusive singletrack
-Mud on bike, yes, but no dog shit this time
-Runner's nipple

So yeah, I woke up to light rain which came back from time to time throughout the day. During my afternoon ride, I got stuck with a group of other bicyclists wisely reluctant to go between a cow and calf moose. I'm not accustomed to encountering cervids that don't flee at the sight of humans, not to mention ones the size of a small horse. And not having a camera for that or anything else, I ended up riding a lot more and stopping far less often than usual. Between the constant hammering, much of it over exposed tree roots on my why-the-hell-am-I-still-riding-this rigid fork, and the fact that I haven't lifted weights in a month-and-a-half, I now find myself pretty well shelled. And that's always a good thing to be on a Saturday afternoon. Oh, and the dog shit thing is pretty self-explanatory, as is the humidity-driven abrasion on my man cans. Ordinarily, I'd say something about how the last four beers in the refrigerator were calling my name, but all I ever want after these rides if hot coffee.