I'd rather be fishing.

It is 8.30am and I have both hands full, front door keys in one hand, bike in the other. Pull the door shut, pocket the keys, and in one movement am clipped in and pedaling. There is a chill in the air which makes a pleasant change from the humidity of yesterday.
Mike has decided that he wants to bike with me today, but then in an attack of anal has decided to leave 15 minutes before me. I'm a little ticked, so set to work with a will. A slight tail wind helps my cause.
He has told me that he will turn around at 20 miles, and with 100 yards to go I blast past him doing 25 mph. He nearly dies of fright, and his head spins like a weather vane. He can't comprehend that I have caught him 15 minutes in 20 miles. I wave him goodbye, having ridden together for a good 75 yards.
The hills are no less brutal but I get to Mercer 15 minutes quicker than Wednesday, where I settle in to Pepsi, and Tea and a Ham sandwhich. A woman with a tight maroon top approaches, I look directly into her eyes, and her nipples become so hard that she looks like she is stealing the salt and pepper shakers. We both smile at each other as she passes. An old woman tries to take my drink bottle, she asks if she can borrow the sauce.
Back on the road, I find the morning chill was caused by a sou' wester, which is now blowing directly into my face. There is only one thing that makes you grovel quite so badly as a head wind, and that is a head wind after 54 miles of hills. I suffer a slow desication while I twist in the wind like a gibbet.
I stand in front of my front door after 94 miles, bike in one hand and keys in the other.