This is my husband George. He has our daughters convinced that he is riding in the Tour de France this year; he is an amateur road cyclist -- not motorcyclist, not mountain biker -- he's that kind of biker that wears Spandex and makes you angry on a road without shoulders. George rides his bike upwards of 200 miles a week in good weather and not much less than that even when we have 19 degree mornings. I took these photos this afternoon when SG and I passed him on Route 34, all of us on our way home . . . Yes, George sometimes rides his bike home from work -- his work in Walkersville . . . yeah, that's a long ride. And, yes, he has to ride back in the morning, too. He'll leave tomorrow around 4 a.m., coffee in his water bottle. He's a nut.
This is my husband George. He has our daughters convinced that he is riding in the Tour de France this year; he is an amateur road cyclist -- not motorcyclist, not mountain biker -- he's that kind of biker that wears Spandex and makes you angry on a road without shoulders. George rides his bike upwards of 200 miles a week in good weather and not much less than that even when we have 19 degree mornings. I took these photos this afternoon when SG and I passed him on Route 34, all of us on our way home . . . Yes, George sometimes rides his bike home from work -- his work in Walkersville . . . yeah, that's a long ride. And, yes, he has to ride back in the morning, too. He'll leave tomorrow around 4 a.m., coffee in his water bottle. He's a nut.
