Where Were You While We Were Getting High?

Morning weigh-in (Wednesday): 180.5#, 12.5% BF
Morning weigh-in (Thursday): 177#, 15% BF

Towpath ride, two days in a row: I blew off the gym Wednesday, since the weather turned so much nicer by the afternoon, and rode the towpath. Strangely enough, it wasn't in bad shape at all, except one section that was under water. Rode out to Sand Island, didn't need lights until the return trip. I felt a lot faster than last Friday -- thinking back, I was probably bonking -- though I was still around two hours.
Yesterday was beautiful, so I hopped back on the bike and did the same ride. I got out of the house a little earlier this time though, gained maybe fifteen more minutes of daylight & didn't need lights until I was almost back to Hope Road, where the Bethlehem Boat Club is.
Hope Road has been closed ("destroyed" is a more accurate description) since Hurricane Ivan, but the washed-out bridges have been replaced and a there's gravel down, so I took the road up to the Palmer Bike Path. Last night, as I rode behind the old steelyard, I surprised a bunch of older teens smoking pot or whatever. They were all like "Dude, you frightened me!" but all I could think was that -- not ten feet from where they stood -- there was a big clump of trees, inside which they'd have been invisible even to people looking for them. Sheesh, kids these days...

Champagne Supernova: heard that song over the weekend, got a laugh thinking about those kids yesterday but the gist of the refrain has been hitting home: there have been a lot of claims to countercultural or street cred lately, where all I can say is "the opportunity to prove yourself a hero is long gone. Really, where were you when it counted, years ago?" Of course this is about Iraq.

Meanwhile: Rest in peace, Terri Schiavo. Here's some info on living wills.

Tonight is the gym, if it rains.