After my full ride in yesterday morning, I was pretty worn. However, I decided (against a small nagging voice) to go ahead and tough it out on the way home. With one water bottle in tow, temperatures in the upper 90s, and me WAY out of cycling shape, it was a recipe for disaster.
It hit me about halfway home. I was in "no man's land" in the suburbia bike path when I succumbed. Drenched with sweat, about to pass out, I stopped in the shade to swallow the last few dribbles of water. Shaking, I called my wife. She was in Greenwood and it was rush hour. No rescue from her. I waited around a bit longer, thinking I maybe could make it. She had other plans. A few phone calls later, one of our associate pastors picked me up and hauled my sorry butt home. Two bottles plus better planning for me, in the future.