After a very rainy and busy weekend, I looked forward to getting out on Monday morning for a quick ride. Mondays are by nature busy, but I needed some saddle time to blow the weekend slack off of me and burn some calories.
I headed out on the Boone with heavy legs, shit for motivation, and my Fuji X-T1. After a brief stint on pavement, I headed north but was quickly faced with a washed out road. The last time I tried to navigate water across the road I found myself in cold stank water up to my ass cheeks, so this time I turned around and opted to find another dirt road to deliver me northward.
A mile or so later I finally found some dirt that was free of standing water and continued on. My legs were finally starting to come around after the two days of sloth, and my mind trailed just behind. I think finding a few photo ops (and a creepy toy horse randomly in a pile of junk in the parking lot of a dirt road business cheered me up).
I wasn’t going to set any PRs, or win any Strava segments, but I was enjoying the brief time on my bike and finding a few shots along the way.
With a quick hour and a half ride in my legs, it was time to head home, make up another lunch time Vomit Bowl®, and finally get my grass cut and trimmed before taking on the rest of what my excuse for a life throws at me.
I might use Tuesday’s spare time to get back into some strength training, I’m starting to sag again in all the wrong places. Then again, is there a place that one actually wants their body to sag? I really can’t recall anyone who says “I really wish I could get my pecs to be down where my belly button is.” Or “Damn, I wish my scrotum hung lower.” But I could be wrong.