Author Archives → soiledchamois

Unhappy Jules

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Every so often, especially with the cobbled classics coming, I find myself getting sucked into perusing through vintage photos online from the early days of racing. The one you see here is of 29-year-old French cyclist Jules Deloffre at the 1914 Paris-Roubaix.

This one caught my eye for a variety of reasons. For one, Jules looks hella unhappy to have his photo taken. I know that in those days, there wasn’t a lot of smiling and giggling for the camera due to the exposure time, etc., but still, Jules looks as if he is trying to make sure the viewer makes no mistake about his nationality, or the level of asshole that he is. That, or he sensed dead legs and a 76th place finish later that day.

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At Least

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Saturday morning as I sat around drinking coffee and writing this digital fishwrap I finished my post by saying “time to air up the tires, charge the camera battery, and get out in the sunshine and calm winds while it lasts.” Well, the winds sure seemed calm here in town but when I got onto the open dirt roads north of town, the winds felt anything but calm. A stiff breeze came out of the west and cut right through my jacket and Craft windstopper base layer, keeping my nipples like two diamonds attached two fleshy beanbags full lard for nearly two-hours. Oh well, at least it was sunny.

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While it Lasted

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Last week was an optimal early spring week for getting time on the bike and continuing some mild success with the Fit to Fat & Back process. Sadly, this week has been crap. The weather was rainy, blustery, and cool; riding was limited and time spent indoors “doing stuff” was high. On top of that any potential weight loss is unknown do to my scale in need a new battery and me being too forgetful stupid to remember to buy one. Add to that my “cheat day” came earlier than expected due to a mind funk and you have the makings for a more unsuccessful week in my life than usual.

Thankfully on Friday the storms had finally moved out of the area, the high wind warnings receded, and I finally got out on my bike for a ride. A ride in cool 35˚ “spring” temperatures, but a ride nonetheless.

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East of Omaha

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During the week as I did several Better Than The Trainer Rides™ I had an eye on Saturday and the hope that it would bring warmer temperatures, dry dirt roads, and some extended miles on said dirt roads. As it turns out the temperatures weren’t going to get warm until late afternoon, and the dirt roads remained muddy messes. On top of that Wifey was going to be back in Pittsburgh for the weekend, which meant that I was solely in charge of the boy until she arrived home Sunday. Since I don’t like to stray too far away from home–in case my mad parenting skills would be need to be called into action–I headed back to the paved roads of the B.T.T.T.R™ yet again.

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Seven & Eleven

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Despite having legs that felt as heavy has a two sacks of haggis, I got out for a ride on Thursday. Right now, I’m not so concerned with the length of the rides, just trying to get consistent time on the bike. So I headed out for yet another Better Than The Trainer Ride™, but this time ventured off of pavement for a bit and reintroduced some dirt, er I should say mud, to the ride.

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The Last of The Fat & Progress

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Thursday’s ride was followed by two days in the Stankment™ on the treadmill. One of those days consisted of some brief–don’t pull a hammy you fat bastard– sprints, followed by incline intervals at a walking pace that surprisingly got my average heart rate higher than the trainer, and about on par with–what admittedly are–my crap fat bike rides on snirt roads. Thankfully those two days underground were followed by a ride outside Sunday, a ride in which I pray to the Cycling Gods was my LAST ride on snow until late 2016.

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Stupid vs Stupider

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A fecal laced recipe of heavy snow, strong winds, little time, and the slap in the face realization that I need to lose a toddler sized amount of weight forced me into the Stankment™ to ride the trainer for three days in a row this week. I think it’s been two years or more since I rode the trainer that many days in a row! Ever since I picked up the Fatterson there’s been no need for such stupidity. Why do something stupid like pedal a bike to nowhere in your basement, when you can do something equally as stupid–yet oddly more fun–like ride a clown bike on snow covered dirt roads in 25˚ weather.

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