Five solid hours on dirt, with an easy three and a half of those spent climbing.
It's the little things that remind me I'm closer to 50 than I am 25. Once I came to the final creek crossing, I engaged in a hard earned soak.
Cold water on blazing thighs is just what the doctor ordered.
Truth be told, the doctor would probably order that I not do such things to myself again, but after that, a creek soak would probably come in a close second.
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