There are days when I am pretty pleased with myself... days when I go hooting and hollerin' up hills like they don't exist.... days when my legs are pumping furiously but my lungs are hardly having to suck any air in.... days when the miles fly by and I get home and I am left thinking, "How did I get here?"
Then some bastard with legs of pure evil goes tearing past me, with seemingly no effort, and I am hard pressed to catch the flying sod to grab a snap of his chiseled calves.
Today was one of those days. The only reason I caught him is that I roll down steep hills extremely fast - certainly much faster than skinny little sods with no mass. I have to brake on some hills to avoid running them down, even though they are pedalling furiously.
Oh, and if you think he is a bit hard to see with all that sun in front, you are right. I try to time my rides so that I am not riding into the sun on the way home, as there always seems to be at least one stupid pedestrian who will step out in front of you just at that moment when the sun pokes out from behind a tree and blinds you.
So here we have the legs of evil, from slightly side on. This guy eats hills.
So, on a more pleasant note, I give you sunset from the Anzac Bridge. Like riding into the fire of night.