Tag Archives | being an idiot

Not Great But Great

After a week void of cheeks in saddle time, I was finally able to get out for a ride on Sunday. With the wind blowing steadily from the northeast at 15-20+ miles per hour I was expecting the worst, but it was somehow tolerable. I guess when you’re that hard up for a ride, anything will do.

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Not Being Right

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…

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Magic Bullets

Tuesday night the mid-Michigan area got a round of ball busting storms: thunder, lightning, high winds, and rain. A lot of rain. The Cul-De-Sac-Shack’s lawn that was brown for most of the summer is now back in force and in need of twice a week mowings. Oh well, just a little added swomethin’-somethin’ to help me earn my keep. Sure beats wearing the gimp masks again. I don’t know how anyone can breathe in those things!

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Quite a Difference

I proclaimed loudly (or at least typed some shit here) back in May about how I was going to start mountain biking more. That lasted about two or three weeks, and then I immediately went back to riding gravel roads.

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Things Not Riding

After two weeks of riding that had me in the saddle for nearly 9 hours one week and over 9 hours the next, I struggled to make it over the 5-hour mark last week. And this week I will probably struggle even to hit that. Uncharacteristically it will not be from my inherent slack but from real life getting in the way.

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Pre-Good

Before things get good, they usually have to be bad.

After working all day Thursday at the shop, I was anxious to get out and ride and shoot (pics) on Friday. Sadly that did not work out.

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Cracked and Bests

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.

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