It Lives, I Lived

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As I mentioned in my last post, based on recent back issues and the realization that fitness and any sort or racing wasn’t going to happen this year, I had made the not-so-executive decision to sell my five month old Trek Procaliber hardtail. It was boxed and ready to ship when the bike gods intervened and the buyer decided–probably wisely so–to go with his LBS to make sure he got full warranty coverage. I in turn took this as some sort of miracle from above and proceeded to unbox the bike and build it back up.
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Dusty & Unsold

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Somewhere in the last ten days it went from being 39˚ with sleet and snow, to crusty, dry, and 87˚. Long gone (thankfully) are the soft, deep muddy rutted roads with, pockets of standing water, slush, and half-frozen agricultural smegma. For now they have turned to grids of rolling, 30s era Dust Bowl-like roads and my skin is sunburned red like a baboon’s butt.Having said that, I would rather fishtail through a hot cloud, manure flavor dirt than a freeze my sagging man-udders off. Fact.

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Not THAT Crazy

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I gotta say, last week was a darn good week’s worth of riding. There was no singletrack, and the rides weren’t all that long, but I managed to get 8.5 hours worth of riding in, which isn’t too bad for a beer loving, burrito eating, crap cyclist with a bad back like myself. Speaking of my back…

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Unwanted Opinions & Crap Reviews

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Opinions are like people taking dumps. You really, really, really, REALLY like to think that the hot mom that smiled at you [which was probably gas] in the produce aisle while you were squeezing the way overripe, insanely priced, $2.50 a piece avocados doesn’t take at least one dump a day, but she does. Big stinky ones (unless she’s one of those shit camels, a universal term that can transcend gender but admittedly applies more to females, who can go like days at a time without a movement at all, meanwhile my cheeks are hitting the throne like seven times each morning!!).

Along with being a serial dumper, she’s probably got a whole shit ton [pardon the pun] of opinions about carbs [OMG DON’T EAT THEM!], breastfeeding [If they don’t suckle from the teet your kids will end up funny, good looking, ginger haired, straight A students who excel at soccer football], the best post-graduate programs for your son’s unborn child [Victorian era, dietary electrical engineering will be all the rage in 2026!], how long to cook chicken on the grill [get a fucking meat thermometer! OK, that was me], whether or not to refrigerate tomatoes [DON’T! Me again], and gravel road bike tires [see below].

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Savoring It

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I mentioned in a post earlier this week that we had some absolutely crap and freezing weather here last weekend. Until last weekend, I had never seen snow in May in my entire life…EVER. All that seems to be frozen, E. coli riddled water under the bridge right now, as the past three days have been a springtime enema of perfect 65˚ temps, bright sunshine, calm winds, and blue sky. So, as busy as I’ve been with some projects, I’ve been making sure to squeeze some ride time in.

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The Gerela Ride

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After Friday’s pretty OK, could have been better but I’ll take it, mountain bike ride, Mother Nature got her giant panties in a bunch and cast wind, rain, cold temps and snow (yes, snow in May) down upon the central Michigan area on Saturday and Sunday. It really was a kick in the longing for a real spring teeth. The weather didn’t get in the way of me riding, but a weekend packed with soccer matches, and MPSC commitments did, and I have to tell you, that cold and blustery weather made for some cold ass soccer watching.

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That’ll Do

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After two attempted rides at MMCC last week that ended prematurely do to back and hip pain, I returned yet again on Friday with a different bike and a different attitude, and was treated to better results.

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Wind in Black & White

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Tuesday I was pretty bogged down with home, work, and family stuff, so I snuck out for a quickie. Just before I got ready to roll, I checked the weather and it said there was a seven mile an hour wind coming from the east. That was fine with me, anything in the single digits around these parts is a blessing from the cycling gods above. However as I sat in the garage bucking down my shoes, I heard the garage door rattling. “Hmmm…. that’s a pretty strong seven mile an hour wind I thought to myself.”

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Closer To Not Being Closer To The End

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Playing Catch Up, Monday 1o:50 PM

This blog is funny in that if I go one day without posting something, I get the itch to post something; whether it be some unfunny commentary, tales of one of my short and shitty rides, or just a couple of photos. However if I go more than four days without posting I reach blissed out on Valium and sleep med levels of apathy about ever posting anything again. Then once I hit five days without posting something, apathy gives way to creative ennui, or I actually go for a ride and have something that I feel like blathering on about.

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As Expected

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In the midst of various home and freelance work projects I looked at the weather forecast for the week and saw that Tuesday looked to be the one day over the next few that I could finally get out on some singletrack. Despite my left hip and lower back being in various stages of suck, I forced myself to load up the PrOcal and head up to the trails.

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