Dear Long Bike Rides,
Thanks for being the only thing in the whole wide world that makes me crave a drink of plain old milk (or melk if we're being honest about my pronunciation).
Thanks for teaching me that when you burn the bottom of a pan, all you have to do is let it soak in some bleach for a while, and it'll be squeaky clean. (Not that I'd know from experience or anything).
Dear Spaghetti Squash,
Thanks for being gluten free spaghetti of a sort.
Dear Sticker Patch I didn't See In Time on My Bike Ride With Jenn,
Alright, you got me. Both tires even. Thanks for not being a car, a cattle-guard, rail road tracks or anything else that would blow out my tire. That way, I could use the one tube I had on me to replace my back flat then pump my front tire full of air and sprint home praying it wouldn't go flat. Thanks for letting me make it home in one piece.
Thanks for the postseason, for fostering amazing comebacks, for hits like this one, for walk off grand slams, and for all things Josh Hamilton. You rock.
In other news, I started lifting weights again, and I love it. That is all.