Fifty Miles of Fog
and nobody is looking back . . .
Their first time riding a fifty-mile stretch, Meg and Mitch pedal down Russell Boulevard in Davis, heading toward Winters, where they’ll veer south and ride their bikes to Vacaville, finally turning north to complete the triangle, ending up back in Davis, California.
Mitch was planning to do a century bike ride at this point, twice as far as today’s ride, but they’ve both been too busy at work to train properly.
Ever since seeing Little Feat at the Hoedown, Mitch’s fancy training chart, the one he hung on Meg’s fridge with such insistence . . . has been losing its luster big time.
Neither training partner is gung-ho about staying in the area come spring.
They don’t discuss whether the triathlon is still on, but there’s no harm in continuing their workouts together. Today’s fifty-mile loop will take five hours and both have been eager to pedal this route since they started working out together.
Tule fog forms every winter in the Central Valley of California, a low dense fog that’s colder than the high marine layer that forms along the coast every summer. This fog is so thick, Mitch loses sight of his dick when he whips it out to take a whizz on the side of the road.
