I swear you can't win for losing sometimes.
I got my 40 miler in, including the infamous Climb to Nowhere that had flattened me a couple of weeks ago. The average speed my cyclometer called out to me slowly crept up to 13 MPH as I went along.
Feeling good about the ride but having gone through 48 oz. of water already, I stopped at Hatmakers for a Cherry Coke and a Veetamin Water.
A trim gent my age makes small talk, admiring my bike and chatting about the state of pro cycling ("They're all dopers, you know"). He recounts his local racing career in the 80's.
"I had a pretty good time until one day I was flying down Wibble Hill Road and flatted my front tire. I woke up a month later in the ICU after being in a coma from a closed head injury. After I recovered, I stopped racing. There was something about the wreck that dulled my competitive edge."
Yes, I think that would do it
He continued, seeing if maybe someday I might make a suitable riding partner. "I've really slowed down these days. The course you're riding, the best I can manage is 17 MPH."
I invited him to the club rides but said he'd find my company a bit boring.
Then I came home and kicked my cat.
Addendum: Not really. I had a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I read somewhere that if you use it as a recovery drink it makes you go faster.