Philly

Bleh.

Five hours in the air, and no bike for the weekend. Even if I were bringing a bike, I sure as hell don't wanna ride where the high is 35 or 40 or whatever. I bitch when it's 50 in the early morning when I leave. Bleh.

Well, at least I'll get a good cheesesteak - or that's what I'm told. I figure I'll put on a few pounds between the fat food and beer. But that good 'ol torture machine, the CycleOps, will take it off in the evenings when I get back, I'm sure.

Ok, until I'm back,
Fatty Out