Part I (On The Couch Whilst Sitting In a Recliner)
New Year’s Eve had some promise; Wifey and I had the house to ourselves, good food to eat, and a fridge full of good beer. Sadly by 9:00 PM all that promise turned into Wifey pissed at me because of my opinion on how I can’t see any good that could possibly come from 2017 (I still stand by that, the world’s f*cked), and debating my talents (her words) and lack there of (my words) as I head into another year without a paycheck.
This holiday week I have immersed myself in sloth of varying degrees, mostly saved for the tail end of the day in front of the fireplace. During the day I’ve been eating proper and being as active as possible so as to make amends for my evening vices. Those activities have mostly been confined to 3.5 mile runs/lumbers on the treadmill, but yesterday I got an itchy bung to be outside. So I aired up the Fatterson, dawned multiple layers of winter clothing, and headed out to experience The Joy of Snirt (thankfully void of hairy hippies getting their freak on).
The winter thus far has left me with little motivation to get out on the bike. Prior to riding Sunday I had only ridden twice through the week; one freezing cold ride in the wind and snow drifts, and one short ride on the soft snow at Sally’s Trail down in Alma. The rest of the week was spent on the treadmill and lifting heavy things for no reason. I wanted to get outside on Saturday, and even went so far as to ready my snowshoes, but after I was done clearing the driveway of another five inches of snow, I lost my desire and found myself reaching for my Xbox controller and a bottle opener instead. Saturday would be Sloth Day.
I woke up Thursday and did my normal Jason things: multiple coffees, multiple dumps, wake B, make lunches, get B his breakfast, make and eat my breakfast, check that B brushed his teeth, make sure Wifey remembers her travel mug, etc., etc. Then as soon as Wifey and B were out the door I laid down for an hour of what I call “second sleep.” Pretty much an hour for me to lay there and think about what I need to do and try to forget about the fact that I got up at 6 AM without a paycheck in sight.
Whilst I laid there digesting breakfast, what I needed to do, the never f*cking ending Trump shit show and my hatred of said orange skinned Hitler, the mouse (or bat) living (mouse, now dead) in our garage wall, and whether or not I’ll ever have a real job again, I got a text from L.C. at Terry’s filling me in on the condition of Sally’s Trail down in Alma (slow, but rideable he said). Little does L.C. know, but I farted in his general direction, turned over an farted again (I had Mexican the night before. Maybe I should build a wall? Around my anus!!! Sorry).
After two days off the bike doing little other than snow removal, cussing, house work activities, and playing EA Sports FIFA, I somehow forced myself outside into the snow to ride this morning. I’d like to write a litany of motivating words telling you how great it felt to be out in the 20˚ temps, riding through the blowing and drifting snow, and how alive and full of life lusting TED Talks vigor I was, but that would be a bunch of bullshit.
Winter is now (unofficially) officially here in the mid-Mitten. I was hopeful that it was detoured when the snow we got last Sunday melted through the week, but I knew it was here for sure when a quick pre-ride check of my phone Friday said it was 24˚/Feels like 17˚. What it should have said was 24˚/Feels like cold as f*ck.
After two days spent working out indoors for a variety of reasons (weather, time, not giving a shit), I got out for a ride on Wednesday morning. It was a short and sweet 25 miler, with little photo ops along the way, and many of the roads were still muddy messes, but a ride, is a ride, is a ride, is a ride.
Saturday was spent doing three things: eating, driving, and drinking (not all at the same time). Mostly eating foods that I really didn’t want to eat (hastily thrown together ham sandwiches and pretzels for the trip home), driving for over six hours at Cannonball Run speeds, and after 3.5 days finally having some drinks in an attempt to come down from a whirlwind Thanksgiving visit to Pennsylvania and all the angst that comes with. Through all of that I had my eyes on riding Sunday no matter what Ma Nature or life threw at me, and I did.
After two days of not riding, I finally made it out for some dirt road riding on Tuesday morning. The sun was out, the wind was relatively calm, and the air was crisp. Like 29˚ sort of crisp. I sure was a shock from last Friday’s ride in 70˚ weather. But there is no use in complaining about it because I live in Michigan, and cold weather is part of the deal five to eleven months out of the year.
Friday and Saturday this week were like night and day. Friday it was 70˚ and I rode 30 miles in shorts and short sleeves under a blue sky and sun. Saturday it was dark and gray, the wind was gusting, and it was blowing rain and snow most of the day.
