Tag Archives | being a slacker

Jack in The Country

After Saturday’s ride, I was eager to get back out for some more. Sadly, Sunday brought 40+ MPH wind gusts (no thank you) and time on Monday did not cooperate. All I could muster was the weakest of attempts at time on the dreadmill. Tuesday, however, was looking much better.

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One Ain’t Bad

Last week started with about six or seven inches of snow and icy roads that forced schools to cancel. Somewhere in the middle of the week the temps warmed up towards 50˚ and the aforementioned snow all but melted. Then come to the end of the week the temps dropped again and froze the roads solid which aided me in finally getting out for a ride.

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Forced Rides

Despite having lived through 39 Pennsylvania winters and 7 Michigan winters I have yet to learn to embrace winter. I’ve got better at dealing with winter over the years by adding activities like snowshoeing and rides on the Fatterson with my camera into my routine but saying I embrace those activities is just crazy talk.

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Indoor Living Stuff

After Tuesday’s short—but sweet—ride, things turned pretty pear-shaped. First, the wind kicked up on Wednesday and was blowing hard enough to bend some trees and rattle some shutters. There was no way I was going out in a cold wind like that, that’s just not fun to me. Then, come Thursday, the temps sunk into the mid-teens and the wind continued to blow. Screw that!

Despite not getting outside over the past two days, I kept quite busy indoors.

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Finding Something

After spending what seemed like all of January in a frigid, vile funk that reeked of self-loathing, miserableness, ennui, WAY too many double IPAs, and white trash Mexican food, I have finally escaped said funk like a freshly birthed whale exiting its mother’s birthin’ bits.

That’s not to say that things are all beer and Skittles in my world, but riding three of the past five days and having the chance to ramble around the snirt roads on the Fatterson with my camera has me feeling a shit ton better of about life (as long as I don’t watch the news, look in a mirror, peruse the want ads, or step on a scale).

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Broke Like The Wind

When I rode last Saturday I returned home mentally broken like expelled wind forced betweenst the ass cheeks of a 300-pound hobo who just finished off a can of ice-cold pork ‘n’ beans. With that brokenness, I puttered and muttered through the week logging several miles of sprint intervals on the dreadmill, a session or two of pedaling nowhere fast on the trainer, perfecting my return to pescatarian eating (80% of the time), and many a night doing 12-ounce curls undoing all the work put into those workouts and diet changes.

Thankfully for all concerned that ended on Saturday when the temps warmed up and I forced myself out onto the slirty1 and snirty2 dirt roads.

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