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.
I took a bit too much bitter enjoyment in recounting such 2016 lowlights as how I was rejected by the county for a crap part-time office job, even after the staff was lead into the interview room to uncomfortably ask me random questions in an attempt “get to know me.” How Bullseye™ rejected me for a part-time seasonal stocking position, and how Breadbowl™ didn’t even bother to acknowledge that I applied for a baking position that required no past experience and only a high school/GED education. Wifey also failed to be impressed by my arguments concerning my age, no real college degree (crap two-year art school), or about how useless my twenty plus years of experience slinging graphics (mostly in an industry that that now barely exists), has my resume looking about as appealing as a sore oozing STD. I then went on to point out how I eat and drink too much, would rather not interact with people, dealt with a jacked up hip and back most of the spring and summer, don’t ride my bike as much, no longer race my bike at all, and moved up yet another pant size in 2016. I was in rare form!
Yes, I totally put out of my mind the fact that I met Wifey twenty-two years ago to the day, went on to marry her, have an amazing kid with her, and enjoy a great life with them both in a nice house in a good neighborhood, and went to bed at 9:45 leaving her to usher in the New Year alone for just the second time in those twenty-two years (the only other time was due to me having the flu and having to leave our festivities early to go home and sit on the throne for the evening before being dispatched as the designated driver to get everyone home safely). Of course several years ago she drank too much wine before we ate dinner, puked, and went to bed leaving me to “party” alone with the pulled pork (not code for masturbation) that roasted all day.
In other words I was an asshole and picked the wrong night to debate the pros and cons of “me” with someone who loves me as much as she does. I should have called one of the many folks who don’t like me, like the Bullseye™ HR director, I would have so won my case!
I love a good pity party, especially when I am the guest of honor, but such is life. I still insist that 2017 will most likely suck hairy balls even more than 2016, regardless I gotta pull up my increasingly bigger pants, and get to work on fixing myself.
Part II (Temporary Zen Found)
With all that still coursing through my brain early New Year’s Day, I sat drinking coffee, watching soccer and telling myself that there was no way in hell I would be joining the shop’s ride on the newly added groomed fat bike trails at Snow Snake.
Then L.C. texted to see if I was riding. I said no. Ten minutes later I said yes, but I would be late. Ten minutes after that I said yes, that I was on my way and arrived at trailhead before anyone else even got there. So much for Pity Part Reduxe. I picked up my trail pass, got my bike ready and chatted with folks as they filtered in for the ride.
Soon our large group was heading up the snowy paved road to the trail head and filtering into the woods where we would drop rapidly over the whoop-de-doos and turns of the Zipper Loop before starting to climb back up. The group splintered apart quickly, which was fine by me, and by time we hit the next trail I found myself riding alone, or chatting with the Godfather.
The Godfather rolling along.
The trails were in good shape, with only some minimal soft spots on the sides of the trail. 5.5 PSI in my 3.8 tires was just fine. As the temps rose to the mid-30s I was sweating more than anyone should ever sweat on a winter morning. I went from a balaclava, to a skull-cap, to just my sweaty hair under my helmet. I was dressed for a cold ride on dirt roads into icy wind, not for rolling snow pack in the bright sunshine shielded from the wind by the woods. Live and learn.
Admittedly I’ve not had a ton of great experiences riding groomed fat bike trails, and can count on four fingers the times that the conditions all came together to make for a great ride. Thankfully this was one of those times.
Random riders ahead.
The Frontwoods and Backwoods loops were my faves and I would do a few loops on them. After two loops of it with the Godfather he rolled on to join up with the others. I contemplated going on with him, but then looked at the long white ribbon to my right void of anyone and rolled off for another loop solo before calling it a day after a couple of hours of riding and socializing.
Really stoked to have some machine groomed trails to ride just 25 minutes from our shack. Hard to tell right now, but if the snows return I wouldn’t hesitate to pick up a season pass.
It was the perfect way to start off 2017. Even if 2017 does suck big hairy balls, it will suck them less heartily if there are more rides like this in the months to come.
Thanks for letting me vent a bit in this post. Hope to do less and less of that as I continue to work out what I need to do. Have a great 2017.
Later.