Mistakes were made. Again.
Mistakes were made. Again.
Wednesday night as I looked at the next day’s schedule of Dad duties, house duties, and a mid-afternoon appointment with my mind bender, I made the decision that I would get up with the dogs at 5:45 AM, get them fed and outside to poop, then immediately get out for a ride. This would have me home in plenty of time to get B to his morning conditioning session at the soccer fields.
It’s been so long since I’ve had time to post anything here, I think I forgot how to write.
It’s been a few days since my last entry to this interweb hosted pixelated dung heap. There is a good reason for that: I haven’t been riding.
Monday was an OK-ish ride in the morning, and a HOT early evening in Midland watching B’s JV team get trounced while I sweat all over myself and anyone in a 30-foot radius of my gelatinous body. I don’t know how a person can produce as much sweat as I do just standing there, it really is disgusting and a tad embarrassing.
On Wednesday morning Wifey headed to Chicago for a three-day meeting at HQ, and I snuck out for a morning ride in the dreary mist, happy to be out on my bike after working the balls of Tuesday in the shop.
As I closed my last post, I said that whatever I decided to do with my day—doing stuff-wise—it would be the right decision. That sounded good, and I tried to make it right, but choosing to ride had me wishing that I would have done just about anything else.
I’ll explain, because that’s what I do…
I spent most of Friday at the shop doing things that one does while working in a bike shop and was anxious to get out for some riding on Saturday.
Friday was pretty wet around these parts. So wet that I had to abort a rail trail spin due to the heavy rain. When Saturday came around, I planned on doing Friday’s ride on Saturday; a 25 to 30-mile ride on the paved Jaque rail trail out of Clare. Then I didn’t.
A quick ride in the hot sun late Sunday morning finished off my best week of riding since November. That is not to say it was like the old days of “training” and racing, but for a chubby, 47-year-old slacker who cares more about photo ops than accrued miles, 9+ hours of saddle time wasn’t too shabby.
I’ve been sleeping like complete shit as of late. Even taking my regular dose of sleep medicine leaves me tossing, turning, bloated, and gassy. OK, the bloated and gassy part is pretty normal, but the tossing and turning could stop any time now.
I know over the span of Operation Boozeless™ (which is in day 26 of a self-imposed 28 booze ban, thank you very much) I’ve been drinking more caffeine in the form of coffee and Pepsi Zero Sugar, but I usually stop by noon or so. Yesterday I was up at 6 AM and then worked 8.5 hours at the shop slinging bikes and STILL couldn’t fall to sleep. I really don’t know why I’m talking about my lack of sleep. I should probably move on. Yes, I’ll move on—I rode my bike today.