Since my weekends usually feature two rides, and I’m an old, suck rider, I like to take time off the bike on Mondays. I also like to front load my week with house stuff, chores, and any work stuff I have so as to make the rest of the week more fun and ride friendly. However this weekend I only had one ride (Sunday), and the weather looks “ify” the next two days with predicted 40˚ temps and a rain/snow mix, so I figured I’d better roll while I can, or at least while it’s 40˚ and dry.
It seemed like forever since I was last out on my bike; in truth it was a week exactly. Betweenst those two rides was a holiday week stuffed with travel, too much food and not enough exercise. Thankfully all that is over with now (at least until Christmas) and I was able to get out for a ride on the Fatterson Sunday to help kick-start some much needed calorie burning. I know, I know, it’s like pissing in an ocean of bubbling fat, but you gotta start somewhere! I guess.
My plan to ride my bike on Friday was a fail. The winds were still just too damn strong. On Saturday there was a winter storm moving through, with little visibility, so I opted to run on the treadmill for a half an hour, then head down to Terry’s Cycle to pick up some much-needed winter riding gloves before stopping by the Alma Grand Prix of Cyclocross course with my camera to click some pics of the reported “fun” ride that was going on there. The run, the gloves and the pics were all a success, even with only two riders (including the ride’s organiser) showing up for the ride.
Wednesday night after I helped Wifey out with her strength training, I hung around in the Stankment™ to search through piles of bike crap for a saddle to put on my road bike, a bike which these days stays affixed to my trainer all year round and has been missing a saddle for the past eight months. Knowing that crap weather was fast approaching I searched, cussed, found and installed the saddle in preparation for another day hunkered down avoiding high winds and rain.
I had no sooner started thinking about what I wanted to make for dinner when I opened the fridge and saw a pound of unused 90/10 ground beef. A minute later I found myself wrist deep in a mixture of beef, egg, breadcrumbs and spices.
Fall, autumn, the Sunday of seasons, call it whatever you want, it’s nearly gone. I know, it’s not officially over until December 22nd when winter, the relentless heavy flowing period week of seasons takes over, but it feels like it’s all but done now.
I admit it, my Friday night consisted of making Mexican food, hanging out with Wifey, having some drinks, watching bad TV (those Tiny House f*ckers!) and going to bed late. Despite all that, I was up early and feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. But it was only 7 AM… on a Saturday… and it’s football’s international break, so there are no BPL matches to watch… so I went back to bed.
After three days in a row of decent riding, we here in Michigan were treated to two days and nights of rain, gray skies and gusting 30+ mile per hour winds. Needless to say there was no way I riding in that crap, but since I had to go out to run a series of errands late Friday afternoon, I took my camera and did some stomping around one of the county parks close by.
For me, a slack forty-four year old who is currently training for nothing other than to not drunkenly kill over whilst on the crapper, riding three days in a row is not only strange, but sort of an effort at times. Yeah, I know, I’m not exactly setting the world afire with my speeds and distances, I’m not doing intervals, hill repeats or anything that stupid resembles a hardcore training regime, but I’m still riding at a “comfortably hard” pace (in between photos), a pace and structure that is often referred to as “junk miles” by racers and coaches that give a shit [foreshadowing, ask me later]. And sometimes my crap body feels it.
What-evs, with today being Veteran’s Day [thank you Vets], Wifey was off from work, but B-Man was at school. Part of me wanted to stay at home, draw a hot bubble bath full of love, and nakedly lounge around being all lovey dovey with my bosomy, ginger haired gal-pal. BUT, the other part of me wanted to get out for a ride of a different sort on the Boone.
Why can’t we do both? [TMI? I thought so, sorry].
After windy, crap ride on Saturday and a Sunday-Sloth Day, it was nice to start off the week with a ride on the dirt roads and not feel like I wanted to take a freaking hostage or lie down in the dirt and wait for a ten ton tractor to run me over.
