All cliched phrases apply: you can stick a fork in me, put the period on the last sentence of all she wrote, summon the fat lady to the stage. I’m done.

Denver is the promised land. Really, how can any other place compete with THIS:

But let’s not be hasty. We’ll start from the beginning. And of course, the beginning starts with food.

That right there? Banana Bread French Toast from Water Course Foods. Now really, any place that takes the time to do this to an apple…

has to be good. And it was. So, so good.

After I rolled out of the front door I waddled down to the 16th Street Mall.

Again, glorious.

Except for the part where a man playing his flute on the sidewalk skipped alongside me for a block. Which was kind of like being in a live urban version of the Pied Piper.

After that, it was off to the Platte River Trail. A biking journey that went something like this:

Pedal, pedal, pedal…stop.

Pedal, pedal, pedal…stop.

Pedal, pedal, pedal…stop.

Pedal, pedal, pedal…OH MY WORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I literally stumbled upon Mile High Stadium. And proceeded to take a million pictures and giggle like a kid in Willy Wonka’s candy store while I biked around the perimeter repeatedly.

I’m slightly surprised that security didn’t come out to remove the overly excited camera-wielding cyclist from the premises. But I can’t help it. Stadiums make me giddy, even when just driving past them on the highway. And while I can’t completely endorse a team that handed the Packers their most recent Super Bowl defeat, I would be remiss not to delight in the wonder that is Mile High Stadium. The glory! The history! The stomping grounds of Elway and Shanahan and now Tebow! Who wouldn’t be excited to be here???

After dialing my enthusiasm down a few thousand notches, I returned to the path and decided to head for Riverfront Park for some downtime in the sunshine with some* reading material.

*This is what “some” reading material looks like in my world. I’ve held the corner market on indecision since 1986. I’m now the president of the Indecisive Club. It used to be Brett Favre but we just made him a lifetime Hall of Famer.

Then…something terrible happened.

The jovial wind instrumentalist returned and held me at flute-point, threatening to play and skip if I didn’t go back to the Water Course Bakery and get this cupcake:

It was a hold up! What could I do but comply?

But in the end he was right to force me into cupcake complicity. Eating that while watching this:

Perfect ending to a perfect day.