Archive | Outdoors

The Spring of My Discontent

The thing about a Michigan spring is that there is no Michigan spring. Sure, it doesn’t snow as much, but steady rain and 39˚ does not make a spring, nor do sunny skies, 40˚ temps with 30 MPH winds to make it feel like it’s 25˚.

A 60˚ day of pleasure will be offered forth from the raised robes of Ma Nature on occasion, but for the most part, we just freeze our tits off nine months out of the year and roast our balls/lady bits off the other 3. I don’t know why I bother typing any of this, it is what it is, and I can do nothing but do what I do: pack on another layer of blubber, never put away my collection of flannel shirts, and buy another 12 pack of IPA to drink as I sit and wait for the brief respite of summer.

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The Search For an Enema

After last Thursday’s rainy hike, I was in the shop on Friday. Then on Saturday B’s team had their first State Cup match of 2019 winning by a score of 2-1 (yeah!).

Easter Sunday was filled with slack and little to do with Easter. I’m not so religious (12 years of Catholic school riddled guilt, and a nation of right-wing religious nut bags and their vile hypocrisy leaves me with a low tolerance for it), so I basked in the glow of laziness, the bright spring sunshine, beer, and footy on TV.

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Relaxing AF

The snow of Sunday gave way to sun, and melting snows on Monday; followed by days of rain. Pretty typical spring weather. With that, saddle time has been non-existent, but sometimes I’m OK with that. As life goes on, cycling is something I like to do, not something I have to do, rely on for my identity, feel pressure to do, or rely on for my sanity. Sorry, I digress.

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Searching For Spring

Puppy madness continues into its second week, and Lola (the dog) is a black and white tour de force. Biting everything she can get her teeth on, pestering Jake (the dog) every chance she gets and is being a real shit disturber. In other words, she’s a puppy.

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Slushy Hikes & Puppies

After I hit publish on my last post, I was anxious to get outside to ride again. Sadly, after I looked at everything that needed to be done around the house—and elsewhere—before we went to pick up our new bulldog puppy late Friday afternoon, I reconsidered and slipped into a world void of riding and littered with chew toys and puppy prep.

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M.O.T.S.

Most of my days since the last post were spent doing more of the same stuff: snowshoeing, Zwift™-ing, making/eating food, drinking beer, watching football, self-loathing, and cursing my existence. The usual.

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Snowshoes & Black Beans

Other than sleeping, the motivation for “doing stuff”1 has been low. Like, old man testies sort of low. Still, I’ve managed to do what I can with the scraps of motivation I have left in me after a month-long illness, a seriously infected cut on my leg, a self-esteem that’s plunging further and further into the nether regions of my stank anus of a psyche, and a winter that shows no sign of releasing its murderous grip from Michigan’s throat.

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