3 Dog Night

Dogs love to chase cyclists.  I don't know if it 'a because they think they can catch us or they're just angry to see middle age men wearing spandex.  The sad truth is it's a dangerous occupation.  On our XC trip, three dogs have been hit by cars.  Two are out of business.  The third actually ran into the side of a car, bounced off and limped home.

I still haven't had a flat, but broke a spoke on my front wheel today and enjoyed a 45-minute break on the side of the road waiting for Rustin to bring me new tire.  I arrived late to The Fairfield Inn, but finished another century ride with too much climbing.

Like I said a couple days ago, I'm not getting stronger anymore; my legs are dead.  It's getting so bad I was even dropped walking back from the restaurant tonight.  I'm ready for Charleston.

Below is a shot of me flagging down the Trek van:  arm out straight and hand in a fist.  Eric also broke a spoke and Paul the Elder blew out a derailer.  Also included is old barn and some TN countryside.

Sorry to make you guys read this every day, but you're almost done.