After nearly a week or more of being off the bike due to weather, a weekend of soccer tournament festivities, and other crank blocks I finally got some saddle time in on Wednesday.
I did a loop south of town and it felt great to be back in the saddle. Due to some issues with the Boone, it wasn’t the saddle I thought it was going to be, but the PrOcal’s saddle is still a saddle and I was in it, that’s all that matters.
The great thing about being a non-racing, chubby dad-bod type cyclist is that sometimes, even on a perfect spring day in Michigan, you can say “Fuck it, I don’t feel like riding.” Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something outside.
[PHOTO OF BARN,DIRT ROAD, COW OR SOME SUCH FARM ANIMAL HERE]
I had hoped to return to the dirt roads for some miles on Tuesday morning, but heavy thunderstorms overnight and morning rain had me thinking otherwise. The idea of the fresh dirt put down by the county combined with heavy rain was not something I felt like putting myself—or my drivetrain—through. So, I headed into the wet woods to stomp out a couple of miles with my camera before getting home to do what I do. Which is hard to put into words, so I won’t.
With a busy weekend of travel for B’s soccer ahead of me, I had hoped to get out for a ride on Friday morning. However, the 40+ mile per hour winds changed my mind and had me content to just get some stuff done around the house before we needed to head downstate for an evening match.
My morning ride time lurched towards me like a salt covered slug and I was thinking of a reason—any reason—not to ride other than “I just want to drink coffee and watch our Nation continue to burn down around me on the inter-web-o-sphere and then go hide under the covers and wish it all away.” Well, it turns out that some oncoming thunderstorms would have a say in my decision.
I’m pretty sure I rode my bike last Thursday; yeah, yeah, that seems right. My ass was scared and bloody and then I spent three days driving to various points around Michigan to watch B-Man play footy whilst hoping the crusty scars on my ass didn’t open and bleed through my pants.
After three days off the bike, I FINALLY got out for a couple hours today. Sadly, it got off to a rocky start…
Three rides in four days and two flabby, sunburnt granny arms have me thinking that it just might spring here in mid-Michigan. Of course, we’ve had snow flurries in May some years, so I’m not gonna bust out the little J-Man’s banana hammock just yet.
If I could have had added a subtitle to this post I think the full title would have been Old School Renewal, The Good, The Bad, and The Goddamn Ugly.
It’s April 17th, and we Michiganders remain slung over a barrel with our snow pants down to our ankles as the rhythmic slapping of relentless ice, snow, and wind continues.
B’s school is closed for the second day in a row, and I haven’t been in the saddle of my bike in 5 days. In fact, no stuff has been done in nearly 5 days: weights go unlifted, the treadmill remains stagnant, and the pedals of my trainer bike remain in the same position which I left them weeks months ago. Running shoes and hiking boots remain closeted, and my mind has deteriorated into a vile mushy substance usually scraped off the bottoms of shoes while muttering obscenities and trying not to inhale.