Ever since I started this blog I have always erred on the side of miserableness in my writing. There are a few reasons for this.
1. I’m a depressive from way back, so it tends to come out in much of what I say. I take shit for that, it doesn’t always help. But it’s way better.
2. Self deprecation (not to be confused with other self-inflicted “acts” that end in a-t-i-o-n of which I am also an expert). Even at the height of my fitness (quite a ways back now) I shied away from tooting my own horn (again, not to be confused with the other aforementioned act of which I am an expert). Outside of the odd race resume back in the day I just never found a need to paint myself as some expert (mostly because I’m not) or list my accomplishments (because there were few). “Dear Product Manager, please note my 98th place at the Wilderness 101.”
3. I flirted with some “look at me” writing* at one time, but it didn’t really take [see more on that here]. For me there is no fun in writing things like “I rode today, I felt great and had a great time, I am in the best shape of my life, my bike is great, you should get one just like, look at me, love me.” I mean I’m guy whose favorite all time band [EVER] is The Smiths. You know them from such feel good hits as Girlfriend in a Coma, Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me, That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore, etc., etc. So as you might imagine I am drawn to books, music and art that has more than a fair share of hyperbole. It makes me happy 1 and more importantly, it’s fun to write!! [more irony].
So you see, I am not a whiner, a baby, a pussy (if you really want to go there), or anything like that. When it comes to my riding, I just have more fun writing about it when it is a tad over the top and honest. Plus, I feel it helps distracts readers from the lack of proper english and grammar.
Why am I telling you this? Because today I did a short, 25 mile Better Than The Trainer Ride™ and honestly, outside of the combined twenty feet of driveway that I rode while leaving and returning I hated nearly every second I was riding. And that’s saying something! Because in the past few month I have ridden in snow storms, -0˚ winds, one degree temps and thick, rutted dirt road mud. But today… today for SOME reason broke me. It happens and I was due.
When I woke up in the morning the winds were pretty calm and the sun was out. By the time I finished watching my Saturday morning football the skies were gray, the wind had started gusting from the west and it had warmed up to a balmy 37˚. But knowing Sunday’s weather was going to be wetter and worse, I went ahead and fetched the Jake (the Snake) up from the Stankment, and set about getting ready to ride.
As I kitted up, I looked out the window and saw the tree limbs blowing back and forth. I started to reconsider riding and started thinking of some things that I could do that would surely bring me more joy than a crap ride in the cold and wind. Since I didn’t think I could come up with a rubber horse head, a conversion van and a small group of coke fueled Russian prostitutes on such short notice, I decided to ride and hope for the best. I figured I would do my Better Than The Trainer Ride™ and if things went OK, I would tack on more mileage.
As soon as I turned out onto the road I wanted to turn back. Instead, I kept going, because it’s April, I am going to ride my bike outside goddamn it!
As per usual, once I got moving and learned to deal with tolerate the gusting crosswind, it all became bearable. Sure, the snow flurries that started blowing around [slightly seen in the photo directly above] were sort of a mental kick in the junk but I was riding my bike and that’s always good… right?
Then when I turned west directly into the gusting wind I nearly came to a stand still. I was going so slow and wobbling so much I thought I had flatted– I hadn’t. I plodded on, anxiously awaiting the left turn ahead that would rid me of the head wind and bring back the blessed[?] crosswind.
As I neared the end of the dirt and the final five miles of pavement that would lead me home, I could think of nothing but getting home and getting a hot shower. Any thought of tacking on an extra loop was long gone. Getting out on my bike for a crap 25 mile B.T.T.T.R. would suffice. I took a couple of photos, burned a few calories and concocted a few new cuss word combinations (the phrase “shit ass-wind-dick-cold-fucker” sticks in my mind for some reason right now, feel free to use it if you want).
Once home that hot shower felt awesome, a few beers later tasted great and the white trash Mexican fajita bake that made for dinner was even better. More miles, less wind and warmer temperatures would have been great, but regardless of their absence I was happy to have got out. I mean what else would I have done on a blustery Michigan afternoon? (Aside from tracking down that rubber horse head, conversion van and small group of coke fueled Russian prostitutes for the next time that the weather turns foul).
Riding bikes is fun, even when it’s not. Time to get on with my day and maybe put some Smiths on the Hi-Fi…
Later.