Crush Pasta

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I love pasta and I am done trying pretend that I don’t, or that I can eat Primal or Paleo for more than a week or two before I realize that life is too short to not eat pasta (or beans for that matter). I’m sorry, but Italians have been eating the stuff forever and Italy has produced some pretty freaking legendary cyclists– none of which I recall being fat in their racing days. So as I often say on this blog (and in my daily life) “fuck it.” Or in this case, “Fuck it, I’m eating pasta.” Moderation and miles on the bike seems to work best for crushing pasta and not having to move up a belt size.

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In Love With The Superfly

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SKIP TO THE END FOR A JUNE 2014 UPDATE:

I have spent the last two day doing some 16 mile laps on the trails at Mid Michigan Community College. I have to say it was freaking awesome to be out in the woods, which are blossoming into a golden shower of autumnal leaves, and awesomer [word?] still to have the chance to ride through that crunchy golden shower on a bike that is very much NOT mine, but would NOT mind at all if it were.

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How One Race Changed Everything

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Yesterday, as I came home from my ride and sat my ancient, well stickered box full of gear on the kitchen table, I happened to glance down at the large 2002 24 Hours of Snowshoe bumper sticker that adorns one side (right between a bikeman.com and Merge Records sticker). I have obviously seen the sticker a million times in the past eleven years, but for some reason yesterday it hit home and reminded me of what all that ONE race spawned.

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A Wednesday on Dirt (Roads)

Today was another amazing fall day in the palm of “the mitten,” and I was eager to get out on some dirt roads. I extended my northern dirt road route further west and south of town today and got in just under three hours of pavement, gravel, dirt, sand and as you can see– dust.

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I really don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to get out my “new to me” camera and expose its lens and mechanical naughty bits to the tsunami of dust a speeding sand pit bound dump truck left me today. You just know tomorrow I’ll be complaining at length about how my lens is scratched, the shutter grinds and my photos look worse than they already do. Idiot.

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