Best Laid Plans

So... tomorrow is the beginning of a new season of training for the Death Ride. I should be waxing poetic about how none of us knows what's going to unfold, the friendships that will be made, the challenges overcome, the personal triumphs and failures from the relentless march of training pressures. Instead, I sit here, typing under the influence of a 2 hour telephone conversation, most of of bottle of wine, and marveling at the perfection of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich - on toast. Here's to the idea that the insomnia, the misfiring car alarm, and the alarm clock will, for once, sync up.