Damn loaf…

This morning around 10:15, Miss and I saddled up on our bikes and turned right out of our house. The sun was shining, breeze light, and the conversation was all shits and giggles. We were headed to Dan the Baker, in search of our favorite loaf of bread. By the time we reached the Olentangy bike trail we had six miles in the books and all was good. We took in the scenery and giggled at our good fortune to be able to ride on a weekday when the path wasn’t filled to overflowing. Miss began to question how much further about the time we saw the OSU campus approaching on our left. We were about seventeen miles deep at that point and I had told her the entire trip to Dan’s was around fifteen. Yikes.

A couple dead ends later, we finally made it to Goodale and pedaled by Tay’s, Grandview Yard, and before long took the left onto Grandview Ave and the last mile to Dan’s. We ordered a couple croissants, a couple loaves, and one tea. A little refreshment restored some energy to the twigs and after twenty minutes or so, back on the bikes and away we went. By now, Miss was starting to have some lactic acid turn toward full fledged cramps. We kept pedaling. Just past OSU campus we went into full France mode – I grabbed her by the sports bra and pulled her alongside. She laughed and thanked me for the help. So, we laughed and cussed for the last sixty minutes as we slowed to a crawl. We made it home after 42 miles instead of 30. Miss has seen this movie before. In fact, she’s seen it for 40 years. For some reason she keeps coming back for more. God, I love that about her. My Greek Comanche is no joke. She can’t wait to tell Andrew about our adventure in search of that damn loaf. As for me, I can’t wait to have some of it.

Live hard. Love harder. Go get your own damn loaf…

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