After spending 8.5 hours with my ass puckered on Wednesday, waiting to screw something up on my first day at the shop, I slept like a baby last night* : a six-foot one, 200+ pound, shaved legged, beer bellied, Morrissey haired, love handled, bike riding, wanker-like baby. Despite that lengthy, yet still abbreviated, list of my handicaps, it still managed to feel great.
I knew after Thursday’s 45 mile ride that the following days–especially the balls of the weekend– would feature less miles due to family commitments and forecasted rain. However that is not to say that the weekend sucked.
It’s funny how quickly things change. It seems like only yesterday I was riding my Farley over frozen dirt roads, with five layer, of woolen, wicking, hi-tech, extreme cold weather gear and still freezing my tits off in 1˚ weather. Today I rode 45 miles of pavement and dirt roads (about 65% pavement today) and came home a sweaty, fat piece of salty baked ham in human form. Believe me, that is in NO way complaining, I loved every hot, sweaty, ham-like moment of those 45 miles! I’m just sayin’.
After Saturday’s debacle of a ride where I limped home a bonked, wind hammered, shell of a would-be cyclist, I took Sunday and Monday off the bike. Sunday I went to B’s soccer match, watched footy on TV, drank a few beers and cooked burgers on the grill. Monday I made sure to hydrate, got back to eating good, quality foods and hoped that the bonk I experienced on Saturday was just the result of poor post-ride recovery and Friday night hijinks. I hoped, prayed and fretted that I had not become so fat, slovenly and crap that I could do, 40, 45, 48 and 49.5 mile rides fine, but the mere idea of cresting 50 miles would turn me to a heap of human suck clad in lycra.
I had an excellent ride on Friday and felt good almost the entire 49.3 miles. The only downfall of the ride was popping a spoke and NOT breaking the elusive 50 mile mark. A mark that one time was no big deal to me, but as I become older and fatter has become the benchmark for a “long ride.”
In hindsight, Saturday was pretty good too. But before I get to Saturday’s ride I need to go further into Friday’s post ride, which laid the groundwork for how amazingly bad Saturday would eventually be.
As previously discussed, this week will not got down amongst the finer ones of the year. But that is all, pretty much, sort of, kinda behind me. The important things is that after four days of nothingness and crap trainer rides, I finally got my cottage cheese-like ass cheeks in the saddle for a ride atop the Boone today .
This week has been kind of crap, and not just because last week was so freaking awesome! It’s been crap because of the weather (snow, seriously?), not riding outside thus far, annoying, dirt bag student neighbors (who will hopefully be leaving when the semester ends), poor sleep, and varying degrees of self-inflicted, random acts of stupidity from me (of which there were many).
On the brighter side of the week: no one died (yet), I haven’t gained the weight–which I’ve been working hard to lose over the past two weeks–back (yet), Wifey hasn’t left me (yet), B-Man doesn’t hate me (yet), and my various Trek bikes (how did that happen??) were not part of the galaxy wide skewer recall (yet).
As they predicted things have been windy and rainy so far this week, so after one of my biggest weeks of riding in some time and a day off the bike on Monday I was back inside spinning and going nowhere in the Stankment today. Since there is little to no interest (from me or you) in a post about riding the stationary trainer, I figured I would post something else of little to no interest– my ongoing dabbles back into shooting photos with film. In particular with the new to me Olympus [mju II], also known as the Stylus Epic.
I was pretty spent after yesterday’s ride. The steady, east winds during the last half of the ride and running out of fluids with 11 miles to go had me happy to spend the rest of my day and night on the porch with Jake (the dog), listening to music, and enjoying some well-earned beers before putting some burgers on the grill later in the evening.
I was resigned to not riding today (Sunday); I’d had enough of the oppressive wind and was looking forward to sleeping in, watching more footy (I never seem to get enough) and being a waste of a human being whilst my family is away in Pennsylvania.
But with my week’s mileage hovering at 172.9, as much as I wanted to lay around, I just couldn’t. Surely I could muster up the balls to get a mere 27+ miles in and put myself over 200 miles for the week. Something that I haven’t done in quite some time. Probably not since my days of thinking I could/should/wanted to race my mountain bike for long distances.
Despite my family unit being out-of-town for the weekend and the world that IS Mount Pleasant, Michigan at my social fingertips, I had a chill Friday evening alone making Bolognese sauce and pasta, drinking a few beers, sitting on the porch, and watching pirated downloads of Paris-Roubaix on TV. Truthfully I was pretty spent from the day’s ride and was more than happy to go to bed and enjoy several hours of slumber which was colorfully punctuated with dreams of intrigue featuring high-priced special effects, over paid guest stars (Jason Alexander, seriously??) and random memories of young women in black leggings and running shorts shopping in the Meijer produce aisle for ripe avocados. OK, that may have been a fantasy, not a dream, but still.
