Sometimes a week can be OK, even if it really hasn’t gone well.
The week started off well enough; Monday and Tuesday’s lumbers were good, and my stitches are healing nicely, with my skin being more irritated and painful from the bandages that were on than the actual incision. So, I was relatively blindsided by how much Wednesday and part of Thursday sucked.
First, Wednesday’s hike sucked. It was dark and gloomy all day, cold, windy, the critters were lying low, and just a few miles in, I felt the morning’s coffee start to gurgle in my belly, so I said fuck it and headed home with a few miles, a couple of subpar bird photos, and the want to poop in my own bathroom instead of porto.
After warming up and breakfast, I bundled up and mowed the lawn. So, at least I got another couple of miles in my legs, and the lawn looks fresh.
Come Thursday morning, I once again headed out of a lumber, this time in some warmer temps and sunshine. Yes, sunshine!!
I was hopeful for a better hike and better photos, but alas, I just had no mojo. Or at least no mojo for hiking. So, just after hitting mile 4, I bailed and headed to the car. I figured if I left then, I could still salvage something from the morning, even if it wasn’t a lumber with my camera.
Backtracking for context.
Every spring since roughly 2020, I go through a phase where I convince myself that I need to work on my bikes, or take them to Terry’s for service and upgrades, just in case I want to start riding again. Then, most often, I drop a couple of hundred bucks on parts, put the bikes in the garage, and ride them 0 to 1 times. As I did last July when I went on ONE 27-mile ride in 85˚ temps, bonked from not eating before I left, put my bike back in the garage, and didn’t ride again for the rest of the year. Fuck it.
Fast forward to this year.
A few weeks ago, I did my annual bike clean up and took care of Mr. Burgundy (my gravel bike), The Rambler (my rigid Trek Stache mountain bike in full photo-takin’ mode with bar bag). Sadly, Mr. Burgundy’s contaminated brake pads need to be replaced, and I still haven’t made the long 20-minute drive to Alma to pick them up.
However, the Rambler is just fine, and all I needed to do was put a few ounces of fresh Stan’s goo that I had on hand in the wheels, and I was good to go. But I never went.
So, as I drove home from the trail today, I decided that I would make breakfast, then dig out my bike gear and see what happens.
What happened was that I stuffed myself into one of the few bits of kit I have that actually fit (I don’t think I could get a jersey from my race days over my belly button these days!), and headed back to Deerfield with The Rambler to do a quick 6-mile loop.
In theory, I would have gotten more creative mojo by going out on the dirt roads from home, but since I haven’t ridden in 10.5 months, I figured I would ease my hulking body, legs, and taint back into some riding with a loop in the woods on Deerfields relatively calm trails, rather than trying to push myself to do one of my old gravel loops, risk bonking again, and ruin any chance of more riding.
And it worked!
I did my normal 6.5-mile lumbering loop on the bike, and it felt REALLY good. Even the climbs were OK, and there was no panting or vomit after such an extended break.
Had I not already hiked 4.5 miles and wasted a lot of my morning, I would have done two loops. But by 10 AM, the “normal” folks were arriving at the trails, and I like to get on the trails early to avoid people. So, I was content with 6.5 miles on the bike, and the hope of EASING my way back into some riding rather than bighting off more I can chew, and quitting because it’s not 2009, I no longer weigh under 200 pounds, and I surely couldn’t complete a 100-mile race again, let alone 4 of them in one season!
Not sure when the next ride will happen, but I’m glad I got out. I find that I need to do it every so often to remind myself of why I loved cycling so much. Like a freshly squeezed turd thrown against a wall, maybe this time it will stick.
Later.