You can’t avoid getting sick. Sorry.
B was sick over the weekend, Wifey is sick right now, and just about every classmate, coworker, coach, teammate, friend, lover, enemy, and germ spreading, narcissistic Trump voting sycophant in the tri-county area has been, or is, currently ill.
I am not sick, but I have no doubt I will be soon.
IT’S NOT FALL!! Well, at least not technically, but it’s starting to look like it. Shit.
Time for another Soiled Chamois Mega Post, a post in where I post a bunch of photos and attempt to play catch up with my cycling, and non-cycling, life.
I headed south of town on Thursday to ride dirt and gravel on the Boone. Mileage wise, the ride clocked in at just over 26 miles, but my time with my camera was quite fruitful, at least to me.
After three days (some planned, some not) without a ride I finally got back to it on Wednesday morning with a perfect dirt road ride north of town on the PrOcal.
After a dismal start to the week, I ended with four (mostly) gravel rides in a row Wednesday through Saturday, hitting roads south, north, south, and then north again. You would think spending nearly 8 hours on the bike over four days would yield some big miles, well, you would be wrong!
The week thus far has been void of major miles.1 There has only been one ride so far and that clocked in at just over 29 miles. There were also two 3 mile interval runs lumbers on the treadmill due to time restraints, weather, and a twist of end of summer ennui.
I got out Tuesday morning for a ride south of town with the PrOcal. I’ve been opting to use the PrOcal on the rides south of town due to many of the roads being extremely sandy and torn up by Amish horses and buggies this time of year, but I have to admit, anytime the roads smooth out I am left longing for the efficiency of the Boone. The gearing of the PrOcal is way more suited for actual singletrack (probably because it’s made for actual mountain biking, not putzing around slowing on gravel roads), and I just feel like I’m pedaling on fly paper much of the time.
Having said all that, when things get sandy and shitty I plow through with confidence without so much as a wobble.
Sunday and Monday were spent off the bike; doing dad stuff, catching up on some work, goofing off, and going to the shop to swap from the too knobby for Michigan singletrack, side wall Stan’s weeping Maxxis Ikons to the trusted Bontrager XR2s. Thankfully on Tuesday, the Magic 8 ball of life had all signs pointing to a ride on dirt roads.
Yesterday morning I woke up to dark clouds and rain followed by some ongoing mist. As I drank coffee and typed another crap blog post that no one asked for, I was excited to get myself out into it with my bike and camera. My plan was to head south of town since there’s a bit more of the rural decay that I love. I readied the PrOcal and my camera, took care of some Dad duties and other business, got into my kit–which is no easy feat these days–looked out the window and saw blue sky and sun. Damn.
