530 with DG + Fremont to 125th. Legs felt quite deceased on the off day following last weekend's debacle. Woke up this morning at 4 instead of 515, which didn't help. So I was ready for grimness, and indeed, my head kept saying 'ugh.' "And yet," saith Randall Jarrell, "I find that I've grown used to you..." The head wasn't in it, but the legs took over, they just kept going, and despite myself I had a pretty good run. It was a weird feeling to have the muscles working efficiently when my neural apparatus was (and seems likely to go on being) substandard. But I'll take it.