My plan for Tuesday was to not ride. My morning was spent doing laundry, writing a post for this crap site, returning emails and phone calls, taking care of some email issues for a website I maintain, and catching up on some other semi-work related things; all the while taking comfort in the fact that I was not out riding in the extremely crisp and breezy morning air. Until I was.
No matter what the temp, or how much a work in progress a return to fitness might be, there’s something about sunshine and blue sky on a spring day that almost forces one out the door to get some miles in. So that’s what I did.
I readied myself and the Boone for what was to be Day 3 of riding my 30 mile loop north of town. Then as I checked over the bike I noticed a slight wobble in the rear wheel. Since that had broken spoke 15 miles from home written all over it, I figured I’d better roll the PrOcal and venture onto the dirt roads for the first time in a while.
As you can see by the lead photo above, Isabella County threw me velo cock block by laying down heaps of fresh dirt to grade. Shit!
It was easy enough to find a line in the fresh dirt via tire tracks, but if forced off said line by traffic, county trucks, or bike handling incompetence, I would find myself sinking three inches or more, trying to power through the soft shoulder all the while bringing clumps of rock caked mud along for the ride.
The shit thing was, if it wasn’t for the fresh dirt, the north and south roads were in good shape. Well, good for spring time in rural Michigan.
The soft fresh dirt wasn’t the only thing going pear-shaped; while I’m happy that my fitness is slowly returning, 60 miles of riding in cool spring temps in two days had my legs feeling heavy and sluggish. Not to mention the strong winds coming from the north were way colder and stronger than I anticipated and only got stronger as the day progressed. So just 11 miles into a ride through the Michigan countryside that varied from crispy brush, to cow sinking soggy farm fields, featuring every shade of brown and tan in the color pallet, I aborted, took a short cut and finished with just 20 miles.
The ride was so not what I planned, but 3 rides in 3 days and 80 miles isn’t too bad for a chubster trying to lose some pounds and takes some photos in March.
I’ve had better days in the saddle, and I’ve have better days behind the camera, but I got out. And at least I wasn’t my friend Mike who texted me late that afternoon bitching about the roads and even stronger winds! I guess I should have warned him. Nah, f*ck it, he’s getting ready for Barry Roubaix, he needs it.
Once home I ate lunch and continued catching up stuff, all the while looking forward to dinner (welcome to the world of a food junky fatty, always looking for the next fix). Not sure if was because I was so hungry, or because it was actually that good, but I pulled a pasta dish out of my ass (not literally), that turned out amazing. Whole wheat pasta, olive oil, spinach, crumbled fat-free feta cheese, turkey sausage, kalamata olives, and diced red hot cherry tomatoes made for killer white trash Mediterranean feast. Sorry for the extreme close up of the food, not sure what I was thinking with that shot… sort of does make it look like I pulled it out of my ass.
Today I did take a day off the bike, just some strength training, and I have a planned trip down to the shop on tap. Now to start thinking about what’s for dinner… Don’t judge.
Later.