Last night we considered the possibility of going out for breakfast this morning. Today is Saturday. Though each day of the week is much the same we've persisted in attaching significance to weekend outings. So when we slipped into gear this morning it seemed appropriate that we should go out for breakfast. Especially so because we needed to do grocery shopping. After debate we settled upon a restaurant nearby where we've been before. They serve a superb steel-cut oatmeal porridge. And the bacon, eggs and sausage are up to standard.
At the grocery store I made the mistake of becoming overly familiar with the packer. I asked him how tall he was. To which he responded, "How tall are you?" This hinted my miscalculation. Nonetheless we subsequently agreed that he was at least 6'3" tall, this after he lapsed into a dissertation about people who are extraordinarily - and seemingly in his view inconveniently - tall. As I was leaving with my cart he enquired where I was from. To my surprise he told me he had been to Williamsburg, Ontario (which I only speculated was larger than the town whence I hail).
Though there had been a mist in the air at eight o'clock when we went for breakfast, the sun had burned off the fogginess by the time we left the grocery store and returned to the apartment. Momentarily I was on my bike fulfilling my usual performance.
Bayfront Park was perfectly tranquil. The pathway was fairly busy with other cyclists, mostly couples. More determined racing cyclists sped along the demarcated margin of the Gulf of Mexico Drive, leaving the sidewalk to us amateurs. The wind was from the south today so the ride back was uncommonly swift.
At the pool afterwards there were more people than yesterday. His Lordship won accolades for his prolonged laps in the pool - on reckoning, about 2300 meters. The sun was hot.