Shiner

Last Saturday I rode from the capitol of Texas to Shiner, one of the state's smaller cities, which as far as I can tell, is noteworthy only because of the damn fine beer that it produces. The ride itself was a little over 100 miles, with some slight rolling hills, mixtures of head and tailwinds. But most of all, it was enjoyable. We rode past cows, goats, donkeys, horses, and roadkill. I stopped for water twice and a passing train once.

The ride ended at the Shiner brewery, and for the next few hours, hundreds of people with tired legs and nice bikes walked around, drank fresh beer, ate bratwursts, and enjoyed Texas summer weather. I didn't have any Shiner, because I had to drive back, and after a ride of that length one cold beer has the effect of five -- but tastes so good that you actually want five more. So I ate bratwursts and sat out in the sun in Shiner, thinking of rides and races done, and of the ones to come.

All that's really left of the ride now is some grit on my bike and a cotton shirt that I haven't worn yet [look above]. And that's about it. I didn't win. I didn't crash. I didn't do much other than ride a bike all morning, and eat some good Texas barbecue that night [at Uncle Billy's -- where else?]. I went to bed and slept for eleven hours with beer [from dinner] and barbecue on my breath, a little sun on my shoulders, and thoughts of riding to Shiner on my mind.