Celtic Commute, Mexican Recovery

I was bonking on the way home from the office.  Bonking is the cycling version of what runners call hitting the wall.  Unlike wall hitting, bonking is not painful.  You just find your arms don't want to steer and your head wants to sag down.  I don't know who came up with the word, but drooping would be more descriptive.  Anyway, I could tell that soup at lunchtime is not quite enough fuel for 4 hours of cogitating -- there's one mother of a quadratic equation on the white board in my office-- and 8 miles of cycling. 

That's when I heard music. I knew I was out of it but I swore I heard music. It's a little early for the buskers to be out entertaining the tourists in Old Town.  Today is Valentine's Day so normal rules do not apply. And so I came upon two musicians playing Celtic tunes for harp and fiddle. 

Celtic Tunes at the Torpedo Factory

I only stayed long enough to take this picture and drop a dollar in their jar.  The brief stop recharged my batteries.  I made it home without difficulty.

I am pretty sure that a bowl of tortilla soup, a massive beef burrito, and two margaritas are not optimal recovery food.  You never know. It could be true. Being an empirical kind of guy, I gave my body up to science at the local Chevy's.  I may not be recovered but I assure you I don't much care.