After mentally cracking for what may have been the 84th time in my life last week and vowing to spend the rest of this godforsaken endless winter under beer fueled fart smelling blankets in a curtains closed bedroom, I pulled up my grown fat man bibs and forced myself out into the snow to ride today. I have to say it was worth every second of the 21 minutes it took me to stuff my fat ass into three layers of cycling and cold weather gear.
Unlike the warm weather rides I do that at least have a VAGUE plan attached to them (a route and how long, that’s about it), my fat bike rides are all about just getting outside on the bike. Most of the time I am aiming to get as little as an hour and a half in, that’s about all my medication thinned blood and winter hating self can take.
I make decisions at each intersection on whether to continue on or head back based on comfort, conditions and happiness. Yeah, I said happiness. Gone are my days of suffering for no reason, I love, love, LOVE riding and racing my bike but I’ve never been all that competitive or that strong of a racer, so now I ride for pure happiness and to burn beer calories and ’cause ridin’ bikes is swell (to sort of, not at all, quote Wally Cleaver).
With my 1.5 hour plan intact I set off down the road in search of two-wheeled happiness for the first time in a long time… and I found it.
As I passed the local bank’s clock, it posted a current temperature of 10˚. My car and phone confirmed the icy temperature as well. I found it odd that just 4 or 5 months ago the idea of going for a ride in 10˚ temperatures just would NOT have happened. Even in my pre-fat bike days I needed at least the high 20s or 30s before I even thought about a riding outside. Maybe it’s that I bought better clothing, maybe it’s that I don’t care, maybe (but unlikely) I am sacking it up and accepting that I live in one of top 289 coldest places on earth (that is not a fact, just a hard nipples for 8 months a year guess).
The dirt roads were just about perfect for fat bike ridin’ today… there was minimal ice and the snow was crunchy and packed down, some of the best I’ve ridden this year. Despite my hulking girth and the weighty blubbery rubber of the Pugsley beneath me, I felt strong and cruised along happily for almost all of the 90+ minute ride. I like to try to convince myself that the gym, the trainer and my foray into fat bike riding is all paying off and that I will be entering the coming season stronger than ever. But you and I know that is all bullshit. Some days just feel better than others, I will enter the spring race season older, fatter and slower than ever before. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not getting paid for this shit.
In the end, who cares? ridin’ bikes is swell, no matter the girth of the rider or the bike.
