People say that life is full of bad decisions, that you can learn from your mistakes and all sorts of bullshit like that. I hope that there is some truth to in those words, but rarely in my life have a learned anything from my bad decisions — other than I make a lot of bad decisions.
I knew going into Friday that a ride wouldn’t be in the works. So, between rainy morning errands and an afternoon spent finally cleaning our garage, having junk hauled away, and taking tires to the recycling center, I headed to the Sylvan Preserve to hike, er walk a few miles with my camera.
Thursday brought another “early for me” ride on dirt roads. As much as I would like to come up with something to make the ride sound like it was more than it was, I can’t.
Not sure what got into me but I got out the door for another early-ish morning dirt road ride north of town. ‘Twas pretty good.
With Wifey and B in Pennsylvania for a few days, I’ve been struggling to find some structure to my days. Monday had it all worked out for me with 8.5 hours at the shop.
With Tuesday open, I headed to the Dirt Road Launching Pad™ for some south of town gravel goodness, always a fave.
After a beautiful ride in the July sun on Friday, I did everything I could to motivate myself for another ride on Saturday. It didn’t happen.
Friday finally brought some sweet relief from the intense heat and humidity that we’ve been having. Usually, such a drop in temps is preceded by thunderstorms and heavy rains that would turn the dirt roads into a rutted, muddy mess, but this time the cool temps just sort of appeared. With that, I was looking forward to getting out for a few miles on the dirt roads south of town without feeling like I was riding in a treeless rainforest.
After taking Sunday off due to the heat and a scorching case of laziness, and Monday off the bike due to working in the shop, I was ready to ride again on Tuesday. Thankfully the temperature dropped a bit, and by a “bit” I mean about two degrees. At least it wasn’t quite as humid.
After Saturday’s sweat-soaked, meaty dick slap to the face/Breezies™ huff of a shit ride in the heat and humidity, I was toast (almost literally). I felt almost as broken as I do after every ride from December to April. Only this time I was shaking my fist angrily towards the heavens cursing the unholy creation of heat and humidity instead of snow and sub-zero wind chills. A break was due.
As I eluded to in the last post, mid-Michigan was about to/is getting bitch slapped in the face with the meaty dick of a heat wave. I was quite used to warm humid summers under “partly cloudy”1 skies back in Pittsburgh, but here in Michigan, with 8 months of cold temps, a 95˚ day feels like it’s 350˚ and the air is like breathing through the UltimAir 100% polyester crotch of a size 3XL pair of Breezies™ whilst being worn by a 6XL QVC home shopper. While some may find that incredibly erotic and spank-worthy, I do not. Well, at least not while riding my bike.
