Archive | Cycling

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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Freight Train Winds

After 48 straight hours of gusting 25 to 40 MPH winds that sounded like an eternal freight train passing by the house, things finally mellowed out on Thursday morning. I almost got used to the constant roar of wind through the pines and the sound of lawn furniture blowing off of patio decks, but I was glad to see them gone. Continue Reading →

Dealing With The Lion

March has come in like the expected lion, but more like a sad, fey, depressed lion that isn’t all that dangerous due to his lethargy and lack of motivation to kill. Still, it’s a lion and not to be f*cked with it.

This March lion has been void of any substantial snow fall, but has included plenty of general winter malaise: dark clouds, crap snow, cold rain, and as of today–super high winds that make the prospect of road riding not only unappealing, but dangerous and stupid. The bright side is that the 40+ MPH winds should dry out the dirt roads. So at least when the temps drop down to the 20s in a couple of days, the dirt roads will be dry… or frozen solid.

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Winterish Return

In my last post I was riding the high of coming off an excellent (enough) month of riding. Because of that high I thought I was mentally prepared for the predicted drop in temperatures, rain, snow, and lack of outside riding that the rest of this week would surely be offering. I was wrong.

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Thanks February

I feel like I need to say a big thank you to February. THANK YOU!

You see my winter riding goal is usually to get out at least once a week, braving the cold, snow and ice on the Fatterson with studded tires. The rides are usually no longer than 20-25 miles, I’m cold and miserable for most of the ride, and I swear that I’ll never do it again as I mentally plan my “let’s move someplace warm” sales pitch to Wifey. The rest of the time I hole up in the basement on the Drainer® or the Dreadmill® and pray that I’ll miraculously find fitness, despite not riding and drinking too much beer. Even back when I gave a shit about racing (that seems like a long time ago) I didn’t venture out too often in January and February. I would go to the gym, strength train, ride the trainer and use the StairMaster for hours on end.

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