Archive | February, 2015

Trainers, Spuds & Dogs


My mid-winter blog posts generally fall into four possible topics: riding my fatty outside, cooking up grub, riding the trainer, or Jake (the dog). The first of those topics is only mildly interesting, even to my closest of friends and family (even that is a stretch). The other three topics could surely be left unwritten about by me, especially on what purports itself to be a cycling blog. Well, since I didn’t ride outside today, I figured, I’d go ahead and talk about all three of those other things. Like they say, if you throw enough shit (or in this case shitty blog topics) against a wall, something is bound to stick.

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Winter Shutdown


I am forty-three years old. That means that I’m getting older, as well as saggier, fatter and harrier in all the wrong places. It also means that I have endured forty-three winters. I’m not sure how many wet, slush filled shoes, slips on ice, scraped car windows, shoveled driveways and bouts of uncontrollable cuss-filled shivering that adds up to, but I’m sure it’s a lot.

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My Voice


After I write a blog post, in a crap attempt at proof reading to make sure it sounds even a little bit correct, I find myself reading it out loud. I hate doing that because I really hate my voice. If you’ve ever heard any of the XXC Magazine podcasts, you know exactly what I’m talking about. My voice sort of sounds like a pubescent teenage boy (or girl) with a twist of Quentin Tarantino and not one tiny ounce of the talent.

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Two, Plus One, Equals Fun Enough


Thursday has quickly become my day to head northward and ride the trails at Hanson (not to be confused with Hanson). It has also become my day to ride with my friend Napper. He co-owns the shop I frequent, and I have no f*cking job, so his work schedule is flexible and mine is non-existent. Thus our partnership in this Thursday (thankfully non-sexual) affair.

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Waiting and Stuff


The other day during one of my winter dirt road ride rambles I rode by one of the many crop irrigators that have been left to freeze their spouts off in the blustery, wide open Michiganderburgh fields over the winter. I stopped for a moment –perhaps to piss or to stretch out my aging, crap lower back –snapped a pic and then got to thinking how seeing these giant, mechanical, water giving beasts out in the winter makes me sort of sad. It provokes the same feeling I get when I look out my door and see my grill, which I have once again neglected to cover with tarp, covered with several inches of snow and ice. It provokes a feeling of anxious waiting. Waiting for the harsh mid-Michiganderburgh winter to end. Waiting for the return of the momentum halting spring winds, shadeless sun and dry summer air filled with the scent of manure. Sadly there are quite a few more weeks of snow, ice and frigid temps ahead of us before that happens.

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The Ride Before The Storm


I write this post at half time of the Stuper fucking Bowl, an ode to everything I hate about American sports. BUT, that Stuper Bowl was an excuse for us to trek a few blocks over to our friend’s house, eat some food, drink a few beers and be goofs for an hour or so before we called it a night.

While we watched overpaid, grossly overweight NFL jagoffs run into each other, the snow and winds thrust down upon the mid-mitten with furious anger (that is hyperbole for it was snowing and blowing). That made me smile, not because I LIKE wind and snow, but because I had forced myself out yesterday to enjoy a couple of hours of pre-snowmageddon goodness.

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