My life, am I right?
Tag Archives | barns
Another County
Mistakes were made. Again.
Goofiness & Sentiment
Wednesday night as I looked at the next day’s schedule of Dad duties, house duties, and a mid-afternoon appointment with my mind bender, I made the decision that I would get up with the dogs at 5:45 AM, get them fed and outside to poop, then immediately get out for a ride. This would have me home in plenty of time to get B to his morning conditioning session at the soccer fields.
Time Suck
It’s been so long since I’ve had time to post anything here, I think I forgot how to write.
Needing Mo For My Jo
It’s been a few days since my last entry to this interweb hosted pixelated dung heap. There is a good reason for that: I haven’t been riding.
Sweat Relief
Monday was an OK-ish ride in the morning, and a HOT early evening in Midland watching B’s JV team get trounced while I sweat all over myself and anyone in a 30-foot radius of my gelatinous body. I don’t know how a person can produce as much sweat as I do just standing there, it really is disgusting and a tad embarrassing.
On Wednesday morning Wifey headed to Chicago for a three-day meeting at HQ, and I snuck out for a morning ride in the dreary mist, happy to be out on my bike after working the balls of Tuesday in the shop.
Not Being Right
As I closed my last post, I said that whatever I decided to do with my day—doing stuff-wise—it would be the right decision. That sounded good, and I tried to make it right, but choosing to ride had me wishing that I would have done just about anything else.
I’ll explain, because that’s what I do…
Finding Myself
I spent most of Friday at the shop doing things that one does while working in a bike shop and was anxious to get out for some riding on Saturday.
More Ketchup
Friday was pretty wet around these parts. So wet that I had to abort a rail trail spin due to the heavy rain. When Saturday came around, I planned on doing Friday’s ride on Saturday; a 25 to 30-mile ride on the paved Jaque rail trail out of Clare. Then I didn’t.
Cracked and Bests
A quick ride in the hot sun late Sunday morning finished off my best week of riding since November. That is not to say it was like the old days of “training” and racing, but for a chubby, 47-year-old slacker who cares more about photo ops than accrued miles, 9+ hours of saddle time wasn’t too shabby.