Archive | March, 2017

Dealing With The Lion II

Earlier this month I lamented the fact that after a pretty sweet February of warmer weather and riding, March had come in like a lion with snow, ice, rain, and a lack of riding. Now here we are on the last day of the month and March is still twerking its wet, cold, slushy ass cheeks in the face of central Michigan like a trailer court queen drunk on wine coolers, wooing her step dad into paying for that dolphin tattoo she wants on her ankle. Thankfully I found some time–in between those unwanted wintry twerks–to get some miles in.

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More Dirt? Yes Please

There was a time, now almost literally years ago, that me talking about riding dirt meant one thing– singletrack. These days most of my miles spent on dirt are of the dirt road variety. Something that I find to be a hexagonal tug of war equal parts a challenging, loved, creative spike to the vein, and a depressing, sad, pathetic state of my cycling life. The latter is rarely thought of unless I start to think about the days of racing–or just plain ol’ riding–my mountain bike in the woods for long periods of time.

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A Twist of Dirt

I got behind on this digital shit show, so playing some catch up here with a bit about yesterday, today.

Since Friday’s crap-tastic ride in the relentless wind I have done the following:

Saturday: Run, strength train, slack hard, hang with Wifey, drink beer, play video games.

Sunday: Take B to practice, slack harder, drink beer, play video games.

Monday: Catch up on web duties for various side/freelance projects, run, strength train.

In other words I didn’t ride, but 2 of the 3 days I did some “stuff.” Then 2 of the 3 days I did things to undo the stuff I did. But just think if I wouldn’t have done that “stuff.” The good “stuff,” not the bad stuff! We’ll call it all even… ish. This is why I don’t lose weight.

Finally Tuesday I rode. I rode pavement, and I rode dirt. Or as my friends at Terry’s Cycle say #morethanpavement.

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So Hard For So Little

This week has been an exercise in futility. The exercise of course being riding over 100 miles the past few days, and the futility being that despite those miles my weight hasn’t budged in a week. Not even a tenth of a mother f*cking goddamn pound one way or another. I blame the scale, I really do. F*ck that piece of shit.

[insert mental image of me frantically panting with a vein popping out of my enraged forehead like Ren Hoek here]

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On Second Thought

My plan for Tuesday was to not ride. My morning was spent doing laundry, writing a post for this crap site, returning emails and phone calls, taking care of some email issues for a website I maintain, and catching up on some other semi-work related things; all the while taking comfort in the fact that I was not out riding in the extremely crisp and breezy morning air. Until I was.

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Barn Yard Hump Ride

Mondays are usually all over the place for me schedule wise, and are usually filled with doing all the stuff I avoided doing on the weekend. Because of that, they often contain little to no riding. Well that was before Operation Stop Looking Like a Fat Morrissey/Orange is The New Black Inmate began back in February! Now I am willing to sacrifice freelance commitments, husbandly duties, home repairs, cooked meals, and clean undies as I attempt to lose 50 pounds (40.6 to go).

So with that I threw myself out into the crisp Michigan morning with all the gusto of a hump happy bovine, and got in my second 30+ mile ride in less than 24 hours.

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Paved Miles

I woke up to a layer of slush on Saturday morning, so the morning was spent doing Saturday type stuff, followed by a trainer ride and strength training in the basement of the Cul-de-sac Shack. Sadly, if I had just waited a few more hours, the temps rose, the slush was all but gone, and I could have easily squeezed in a road loop. But I didn’t, ’cause I’m dumb.

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A Cold Ride & Rockin’ Coxen

After three days of indoor workouts, I finally escaped the confines of the Cul-de-sac Shack’s underground bunker to pedal out of doors. However, given that at ride time it was about 27˚ with 10-15 MPH winds blowing out of the north-west, it took a LOT of self loathing, guilt, and promises of meaty lunchtime rewards to get me into the multiple layers of cold weather gear and out on the road.

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Same Old, Same Old

So far this week [month?] there’s been a distinct lack of doing stuff outdoors, so today’s photo is from a ride back in February. I like the photo well enough but I hate the utility lines that cut through the middle of it. Yes, through the magic of Photoshop I removed them and the pic looked fine, but it didn’t feel right. I have no problem with retouching images to get rid of sauce spatter on a food photo, the zit on your nose, those nips poking through your wife’s t-shirt, or to make myself NOT look like the poster model for the upcoming, soon to be self-produced movie Dad Bod Gone Wild, Every Day I’m Jigglin’. In other words viva la narcissism! when it comes to spatter, zits, nips, and blubber, but in landscapes and/or documentary style photography I find it creepy and wrong (like hearing your parents talk about sex). So the power lines stay.

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