After hitting the Publish button on my last post, I stuffed the Stache (known in some circles of my brain as The Mustachioed Bastard for reasons I will spew forth later) into Escape II and drove to my normal lumbering trails at Deerfield Park. Only this time, there was no lumbering but 11 miles of big wheel cruising through the woods.
I have done little in the way of physical activities this week. I can’t really pinpoint the whys and why nots, but it didn’t happen—until today.
The week. It was here; it was busy; it’s gone.
I woke up Thursday morning to the sounds of more rain pelting mid-Michigan, and resounded myself to another day of walking in the woods. I was less than thrilled. But then things changed.
Me last week:
I know that some back and hip pain a few years ago, combined with the lack of a need to “train,” derailed my mountain biking but I’m not sure when I just gave up on it. In any event, I don’t plan on letting that happen anymore. I am promising myself to return to riding trails once a week at the very least.
To be 1,000% completely honest, the whole reason I got into cycling 20+ years ago was to mountain bike. It didn’t start out like that of course, I was fat(ter) then and needed to get in reasonable shape before I even thought about a life pedaling on dirt, but once that happened, and I finally rode singletrack, I was ALL in.
The past week and holiday weekend was not as conducive for riding as I would have hoped: there was travel to Kalamazoo and back for B’s soccer tournament amongst other time eating activities. With that I found myself rideless since I rode dirt last Wednesday, but after a good night’s sleep on Sunday night, and a lazy Memorial Day morning around the house processing the hundreds of photos I took at the tournament, I finally got out for a ride; another ride on dirt, real dirt… singletrack dirt.
In my last post I alluded to the fact that I was starting to get the itch for some actual mountain biking. From the best I could tell (looking back through this shit blog) it’s been roughly 8 months since my tires last rolled on singletrack. A variety of issues contributed to that lack of singletrack, most of which was some ongoing back and hip pain when mountain biking. However I am pretty geeked to say that on Wednesday I finally got out on singletrack, and it was just as fun as I remembered it!
Let me start by saying that this is NOT a “race report.” Ever fattening forty-four year old guys who haven’t raced in nearly two years shouldn’t write race reports. However, this is my blog, and pretty much my ride journal, so to an extent it is a race report. Just don’t expect much “racing.”
As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to go against the advice of doctors, priests, lawyers, heads of state, relatives, my dog, and public opinion by signing up for my first bike race in over twenty months: The Fat Chance at Crystal Mountain. I thought it made perfect sense to come out of race retirement in the middle of winter and do a fat bike race.
I’ve done a shit ton of XC and endurance mountain bike races, a bunch of gravel races, a few cross races (which I’ve sort of blocked out), and one road race (which, like being touched “down there” by a shirtless ice cream truck man, I pretend never happened). However this would be only my second fat bike race. How bad could it be?
Bad. Not all bad, but at the end it was clear that there is still no cure for stupid.
Today was my first time on trails in a long time. It was also my first time on the newly acquired Trek Procaliber hardtail. My initial reactions are damn positive, but as with any new ride, there are some things I’ll need to dial in the future. Here is what I learned about the bike (and me) on its maiden voyage…
