83F at 0630. It'll be 101 or more going home. I added a few miles this morning because I felt like it, then made it my business to pursue and pass and leave behind a kitted-out kiddo on a racy little Cannondale, who snorted and said, "Nice pannier..." as he went by at my turnaround point.

I caught up and shadowed him out of his draft for awhile. He kept turning it up a little at a time, looking back more and more frequently. Finally, he started standing up and hammering every few hundred yards. Next time he looked back I was still with him and having a drink from my water bottle.

He slowed up where the path turns off to a gravel detour for a few hundred yards, and the advantage went to my fat Schwalbes. I said, "Your left...Nice day for a spin..." as I went by. As I get older, it gets harder to sound nonchalant and not suck wind when I talk to them, but I think I managed it.

By the time we reached pavement again, he was well back, and dropped off farther over the next few miles. I tried to hold the pace to keep him falling back. I thought he might attack when I had to slow way down for an uncontrolled Labrador on the trail but he didn't. I saw him again after I left the trail and crossed over the 7th Street bridge into town.

I may have imagined it, but I swear I heard him mutter as he passed under, "Next time, crusty old dude, next time..."