Almost hit ten. Ended at 9.9 miles, sixty-three minutes on the bike, and Ghost playing the entire time. Ten tracks of Tobias Forge carrying me through the last Florida heat of September.

There’s something about Ghost on a long ride — the theatrical builds match the pace changes, the heavy drops land when the legs are burning, and Papa Emeritus doesn’t care that you’re one-tenth of a mile short of a round number.

9.9 is not 10. But 9.9 is also not zero, and some days that math is the only kind that matters.