Sunday’s ride started with a quick pedal over to R.’s house for a walk around the neighborhood and much needed catch-up time and a discussion of our various mid-life crises. And then it was time to get back on the bike and fly down the hill to meet N. at the Inner Harbor for people watching and a sandwich. I flew down there in about 15 minutes, because that’s what it’s like to ride a bike on a Sunday through a city with a dead downtown. We grabbed sandwiches, watched tourists wander by–those selfie sticks are way more popular than I thought they were, and I’m totally making team t-shirts next time I travel with a group–and then rode over to Fells Point for overpriced gelato and a walk to a shady spot where we could look at the water. I snapped this picture as we lolled about with the rest of the city and was grateful for a day of rest. And then we pedaled back up the hill, sweaty messes when we finally got home, cold seltzers cutting right through it. A weekend out of the dictionary entry for “weekend,” I tell you.