Author Archives → soiledchamois

In Praise of The Avocado

praistheavocado

Pre-blog post note of sadness, guilt, regret and admission to you that the following has shit all to do with cycling, save for a tiny, tiny sliver.

Ma Nature decided welcome in March by puking down upwards of 8 inches of fresh snow and wind all day today. As I type at 7:25 E.C.T. (Easter Chamois Time) it continues to puke down and I have no doubt that B’s school will be is cancelled tomorrow. March; in like a dead, frozen, one-legged fucking lion. With that said, the only riding I did today was another sweaty hour on the trainer in the Stankment™.

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The Weight of A Toddler

b_DSF3021

Riding has been non-existent for over a week now. Along with doing a crap ton of stuff to get our house ready to sell, I’ve been doing some volunteer design work for the soccer club and some freelance stuff for the shop. The only physically active things I’ve done has been some running lumbering on the treadmill and the lifting heavy things for no reason.

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Pre-Snow Walkabout, Etc.

prehead

After a weekend that featured back to back rides on the Boone, I haven’t been on a bike since. Other than some borderline useless Stankment™ based workouts, pre-moving chores, and some free design work for B’s soccer club, I’ve been a slug.

Wednesday I was jonzing to get out on the bike in the morning, but a winter storm was barreling down on Michigan and I didn’t want to get caught out in the snow storm, so I opted to attempt hiking in the woods again.

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A Reprieve From The Girth

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Last week was a strange beast indeed; one day I was riding snow and ice-covered roads in 25˚ temps, the next day it was 50˚ and I was watching debris fly by my kitchen window as winds gusted from 20 to 50 MPH. The next two days I was riding my bike on snow free roads with a grin on my face. Well, at least on Sunday I was grinning, because for nearly half of Saturday’s ride I seemed to be pedaling directly into constant headwind thinking that I should have just stayed at home watching crap FA Cup footy instead of riding.

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A Temporary Return

return

It seemed like forever since I last rode outside. I am fully aware that in reality it was 11 days, but it might as well have been 1,100. As mentioned in a previous post, that time was well spent doing my best to become a Tub-O-Goo. A fatter, rounder, dumber me. Just what the world needs.

Today however I was finally able to say “Goo be damned!” and get out for a ride. Not a long ride, but a quick short 20 mile snirt road ride on the Fatterson in 25˚ temps is better than nothing, and since it was on the Fatterson it felt 50% harder, and was 40.23%  slower than when on a “real” bike (stats based on feel rather than some whacked out witchcraft like math). No offence to fat ridin’ , winter lovin’ folk, but I can’t wait to ditch the heavy fatty and get back to riding real bikes while wearing less than four layers of clothing on.

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Not Going To Do It

roastedandjazzed

I was this close to writing a blog post about how the weather’s got me down and how I feel like a paper white turd. But just as I began to type I realized that every year since the winter of 2006 I have reached a point in the winter that I write some post about how the dark days, slush, ice, cold, and muck of winter have finally beat me down like a $5 hooker with an angry pimp. I guess just in writing those first sentences I have written it again, but I will go no further. Winter has not beat me down, but the lack of riding and physical activity has beat me down and has me looking and feeling like pre weight loss, pre pedo, pre jailed Subway Jared. Or like me circa 1990.

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Trying The Outside & Real Life

24576015179_a56f852958_cThursday, 6:14 AM

On Wednesday I was filled with nervousness for a variety of reasons; the proud, yet daunting reality that my boy was turning 12, waiting for a response from our real estate agent concerning an offer Wifey and I made on a home, and I was attempting not to think about a job interview scheduled for Thursday morning. All of those things are good and/or potentially great things, but my mind can’t focus on too much change at once, so I knew I needed to get outside to blow the mental stink off of me.

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The Best Worst Ride (This Month)

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Since last Saturday’s “race,” riding has been somewhat limited by road and trail conditions, time, and desire. Other than that 4.5 mile snowshoe up north, my laziness kicked into high gear and my half-hearted attempts at strength training turned into quarter hearted attempts, and any time on the trainer was short-lived with a focus on “fuck it.”

It looked as if I could get in a dirt road ride in Saturday morning. With an eye on rising temps, I hoped that I could roll the studded Fatterson on frozen dirt and ice and avoid the slushy, muddy quagmire that the Michigan dirt roads would become as they thawed throughout the day. As you can see, I didn’t make it. I could have made it if I could have pushed my ass out the door earlier in the morning, but I got wrapped up in laziness, coffee, and FA Cup footy.

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