Ride Part I, the part where I reckon I was faster than last week for no reason whatsoever.
Last week I took my road bike out for the first time in 2014. I had written that I felt swell during the 41 mile ride but was sort of pissed to come home and check my files (which serve no real purposed to a schlep like me) and see that I was over ten minutes slower than my best effort last year. Thankfully things got a tad better today, even with a slightly gimpy-ish neck and back.
Jake (the dog) never waits too long at the door before he’s back in the house to do what Jake (the dog) does best: sleep, fart, snore, eat, burp and sleep some more more before going back out to take a dump. And I did’t wait too long after Sunday’s blunderful crash to get back at trying to burn off the fleshy kegs attached to all sides of my torso. However, I did wait longer than I thought I would have to.
After a day off the bike due weather on Friday (morning) and traveling with B-Man to his soccer match on Saturday, I got out for a quick lap at MMCC after B’s home match on Sunday. I wish I hadn’t.
You may or may not (probably not) remember my post a while back on the isolati. If you don’t remember (and you probably don’t) I will quote the post…
…earlier this week as I continued to delve further into the book Maglia Rosa, I stumbled upon a word that was used in the early days of the Giro to describe the amateur racers, who didn’t ride for a team, just for themselves, room and board… they were called the isolati.
I was drawn to this concept for some unknown reason. Whooooo, wait a good-God-damn-minute. Fuck that, that’s a lie. I was drawn to it because the isolati were badasses. They were considered unpaid pariahs of the peloton. The only racers below them was the aspiranti (which I just MIGHT be drawn to even more and will be featured on a future jersey! Ha!)
Finally, correction, FINAL FUCKING-LY, a spring day to ride in. Today was the 2nd (?), maybe 3rd ride, of 2014 in just bibs and a jersey. It was bliss, but there’s more (there’s always more)…
I don’t do much pure road riding anymore and I really have only one or two paved loops, but I figured it was about time to get my road bike off the trainer and ready to roll.
To say that today’s 2.5 hour ride on gravel and dirt roads was better than Saturday’s 35 minute cluster-fornication would be an understatement. Even having to trail behind The Keeper of The Gravel for 5 minutes while they graded some fresh gravel, didn’t damper the joy of FINALLY getting out on the bike for a ride after a week of bad luck, a busy family schedule and suck weather.
I woke up at 7 this morning to the sound of more rain pelting the windows. So, I rolled over and went back to sleep. An hour later the rain was slowing down, so I forced myself out of bed and downstairs to drink some coffee, watch some sub-par football and make sure Jake (the dog) didn’t shit the house.
As I ushered Jake off the porch I cursed the continued rain and chilly temps and conceded that I would most likely end up on the trainer today. Shit.
After a match and half of football, breakfast, about 200 ounces of coffee and multiple colon evacuations, I got caught up reading some stuff about the Giro online (maybe the greatest stage race of all time). Rain be damned, I was going for a ride!
I checked the radar (it looked like I would be OK), hurriedly got my gear together, kitted up and grabbed my cross bike. I would be road riding but my road bike is still on the trainer with a nasty ass, ever balding rear tire, so the Jake would have to do. I took off down the road and I just didn’t feel right on the bike. I pedaled to the edge of town and realized my saddle was a bit too low. Shit.
We are just two rounds into the 2014 UCI XCO series and the Men’s overall title is looking like it MIGHT be all but wrapped up. The reasons? Julien Absalon and Nino Schurter…
Today’s short ride was a long time coming. Yikes! I hadn’t been on the bike since last Saturday’s Rust Shaker XC race. A combination of windy, cold, rainy, vile weather, B-Man’s soccer, strength training in the gym and general malaise (e.g.. laying in bed praying for the end of my days) from dealing with my continued unemployment and lack of societal contribution got in the way. Hey, this is what separates the Pros, neo-Pros, fast peeps and slow, depressive fat fucktards like me.
