With B-Man and Wifey on a short jaunt to WPA for the July 4th holiday and me at home on Jake (the dog) duty, I was hopeful that the later part of this week would be filled with miles and smiles. Sadly it has been filled with suck, subparness, wind, rain, few miles and fewer smiles. Oh well, it beats not riding at all! Or does it?
After a week holed up in the basement successfully, but miserably, “running” on the treadmill, I finally made it out for a ride on dirt roads on Saturday. Woot.
As many long time blog readers know, along with being an avid mountain biker, cyclist and cycling fan (both road and mountain), I am also a football fan. Football as in soccer, not football as in brown, pointy, throw, carry and only occasionally kick throughout the game ball. But for the sake of this blog post, I am going to make it easier on my five readers and refer to football in its (apparent) God-given, American, Christian name: soccer (vurp). I will also add that much of this post is aimed at my American readers, for in America soccer is not the in your face, national headline dominating sport that it is in the rest of the world, it’s primarily known as a sport for kids that don’t/won’t play “real” sports like football, baseball, basketball, hockey, softball, volleyball, golf or tennis. You many have noticed that amongst the sports I just listed there is another sport absent… cycling.
Yep, whether you like it or not fellow cyclists, there is NO doubt in my mind that most of America does NOT view what you and I do as a sport and that cycling is way more like soccer than some of you would care to admit. This is why I have to confess, I am a little disappointed at seeing some of the recent Twitter and Facebook posts from cyclists bashing soccer players as weak, faking, diving babies who need to “harden the fuck up and race bikes.” I expect these sort of things from mainstream American journalists who make their living off of football, basketball and baseball and attempt to gain readers and listeners with over-the-top statements every four years when the World Cup comes around. You know, sort of how every July when the Tour happens, some dick headed sportscaster or journalist goes on a diatribe about cycling… cardio freaks, funny hats, too tight clothing, get off the road, slowing my commute, not a sport, yada, yada, yada.
Sigh…
Very fortunate to get out for another 2.5 hours on the bike today with very little pain. It’s been a pretty awesome weekend of riding after the long layoff. I’ll take it. However, between riding and the time I spent watching the U.S. NEARLY escape the “Group of Death” in the World Cup, I am out of time for blogging. Time for bed. So I will just post up some pics from today’s dirt road ride below…
Note: The blog post below was originally posted on xxcmag.com on November 4th 2011. As I’ve been doing with some other posts that I wrote and enjoyed on XXC, I am reposting it here, because when the now defunct magazine’s site expires, it’s gone. I am also reposting because I just saw a Tweet that The Guardian wrote a way better, more professional article about her on May 12, 2014 and I wanted to prove (at least to myself) that I was at least thinking of how badass Alfonsina Morini was before them (even if it was a short post, via a now defunct endurance mountain bike site with a microorganism sized following). Also note that I wrote the post using Alfonsia’s maiden name of Morini rather than that of her husband Luigi Strada.
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The past few days have been filled with random rides that featured varying degrees of misfortunes, aches, issues and minor successes, like forgetting to charge my Garmin 500 for weeks and having it die before I even made it to the dirt roads on Friday. If you do a ride and there’s nothing to record it, did it really happen? I’m joking of course, and in my case my ride, the stats are best left unknown.
My ride plan today included a 45 mile road ride. Mother Nature’s supposed weather plans had me alter that to 25 and some core work on the big physio ball of pain and some mid-evil stretching exercises.
As any reader of this blog knows, I am not a smart man. Intelligence is a rare commodity betweenst my ears and I did nothing this weekend to prove any different.
Yesterday (on the road for 41 miles), and today on the trail, was all about the scale. No, not the scale that tells me that I’ve gained 40 pounds since 2005 when I started this blog, fancied myself an endurance mountain bike racer who eventually realized he just likes to ride his bike on trails, gravel and roads, drink beer, eat good food and sometimes race, but the pain scale. I have to say, that even though I don’t like pain, I like this scale way more than that fucking, lying piece of shit in my bathroom… Forty pounds my ass!
This week has been made up of the following: riding, bitching, moaning, hate, expanding my liver, stretching, core work, ice therapy (to that area that makes up the gulf betweenst my two giant love handles) and adjustments to my riding position. Right now, things are going pretty darn, not bad. In fact, today I completed my normal 16 mile loop and on a pain scale of 1 to 10 I think it was merely a 4… maybe even a 3. Woot!
To go back a smidge, I got out yesterday on the road bike. I felt like shit… I felt great… I felt like shit… I felt great. Grrrr…
While I didn’t feel great over the entire 41 miles of crap Michigan roads, I felt well enough that I didn’t want to sell all my bikes and take up drinking and masturbation as my “go-to” hobbies (they will remain in the 2 and 3 slots).
And I as I said above, today’s slow/quick lap felt pretty OK… ish.
Later…. I have a couple other hobbies to take care of.
Back be damned! Back also be rubbed, iced, heated, stretched, rolled, medicated, electronically stimulated and cussed to hell. Things are slowly getting better in the back department, at least on the bike.
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