I finally got a good night’s sleep in, and was enjoying the first day this week that I didn’t have to be up super, ass crack of dawn early. Then Wifey burst into the bedroom saying something like “THE CLOSING’S AT 9:20 NOT NOON!!! SHE TOLD ME NOON! SHE TOLD ME NOOOON!! IT’S IN MY CALENDAR!! I SWEAR!! Oh, and she said that the buyer wants us to remove some cabinets and some other shit from the garage.”
I got two days of dirt road riding in this weekend and am pretty sure that outside of singletrack I rolled on every surface imaginable: dirt, sand, gravel, pavement, shit pavement, and bombed out might be pavement, might be gravel roads.
To say I had a bad night of sleep would be an understatement–I tossed, I turned, I farted, I peed, my heart rate was about 150 BPM, and had some pretty lucid dreams. Had I had three cups of coffee, a hit of blotter acid, and an eight ball of coke I would have totally understood, but didn’t. Just a crap night of sleep that had me taking refuge in the guest room so as to give Wifey a rest from my tossing, turning, and farting.
Today was sort of a hodgepodge of getting some work done, house stuff, dad stuff, soccer club stuff, and life stuff. Somewhere in there I squeezed in a lackluster dirt road ride on the Boone with my camera. Part of me thinks that I probably would been better off just aborting the ride altogether, but after spending my Monday goofing off, eating and drinking poorly I figured I better do something to burn some calories.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I rode singletrack. Yeah, I’m sure if I REALLY wanted to I could look at the shit show that I call my Garmin files, or back through the shittier show that is this blog to jar my memory, but in the end I don’t really care. All I know is that Saturday rolled around, I aired up my tires, loaded up the PrOcal and headed up to MMCC for a ride.
A weather front moved through late Thursday night and brought a little bit of rain, and a some gusting winds come Friday morning. As I stood staring out at the bending trees in the backyard I had little desire to ride. However the prospect of testing out the Nikon D7100 I picked up was just the motivation I needed to sneak out for a quick spin in the wind.
After a good ride on Tuesday I was pretty optimistic about going a few miles further this morning. I mapped out a route, filled my bottles, said goodbye to B-Man and headed out. Down the driveway, into the cul-de-sac, out to the main road…. and meh.
What a difference 48 hours can make! My last ride was a short post-rain road loop in hot, steamy, humid, conditions and had me feeling like I was breathing through a straw. Today it was 65˚ at ride time with a cool breeze coming from the north. Once I started sweating–which given my girth takes about two miles–I actually got sort of cold. At least for bit.
The life of a crap cyclist is all about choices. These choices can make or break even the crappest of planned rides.
