It’s been a while since I’ve been mentally challenged enough to bore you with talk about food and my Cat 5 Cooking, which is my less than witty way of saying that I’m a cyclist who likes to cook; mostly foods that are white trash, bastardizations of proper foods. Case in point, Wednesday’s vat of Not So White Soiled Chamois Chili.
This week has really lived up to the anti-hype. I’ve been sick since Monday and got out for just ONE short ride on Tuesday before things really went south. As of this morning (Friday) I am slightly better (from shitty to crappy, nudging my way slowly towards poopy) but with no ride planned. Oh well, it’s a head/chest cold, it will pass… or I will, either way it’s a win.
My plan to take a couple days off the bike for family stuff and to rest a slightly sore knee has rapidly turned into three days off the bike after coming down with an illness of some sort on Sunday. I woke up yesterday a bit achy, rocking a cough, a raspy throat and little to no desire to ride. That illness and apathy carried over to today and was compounded by a depressing, cold drizzle most of the day.
The weather is suppose to be better tomorrow, so I am hopeful that medicating, resting and hydrating today will allow me to head north and roll some fatties on wet and sandy ORV and snowmobile trails for a few hours, or at very least get out on the mud bog dirt roads outside of town.
I could blather on about some sort of bike crap, but I’m opting to turn in early instead.
Photo: Soiled Chamois file photo from an ORV road fat bike ride early this summer (or is it “last summer” now?).
After last week’s brilliant (for me) return to the saddle and near daily riding, this week has be quite the opposite. As of mid morning today (Saturday) I’ve ridden twice this week. Tuesday’s 42 mile road/gravel ride and Friday’s quick “better than the trainer” 23 mile gravel ride. Sigh.
Some days it’s fun to go out and pedal through the drizzle, mud and crisp fall winds; the past two days were not those days.
Monday’s for me are usually pretty stacked with real life duties, so riding takes a back burner. As (bad) luck would have it, today was also the day that I got hit with a bit of a stomach bug.
This is the second time in two weeks that I’ve been hit in the gut with multiple bouts of stinky leakage and I am starting to think it might be coming from my bottles; the Camelbak ones to be specific. The insides are easy enough to clean but the nozzles are sort of a bitch and I am starting to think that despite my best efforts to clean and soak them, the multiple layers of plastic and rubber that make up the nozzle are harboring the ushers of the my bowl hovering, intestinal distress. Then again, it could be from a skank batch of my White Trash Mexican food. Either way, I think I’m gonna star fresh with a new batch of bottles.
I’m hopeful that my gut will be back in running order tomorrow and I’ll be able to get a ride in. I might pack a bit of t.p. in the saddle bag, JUST in case.
[hr]
Photo: by me. Taken post-ride last week when I was trying out my buddy’s Farley. Well soiled tires inside the xB, and a soiled chamois on the outside. Trying to remember if I had pants on or not when I took the photo…
The ushering out of summer is done. Well, almost done. Now it’s on to fall and my Second Season.
The past few days have brought me nearly 60 miles of singletrack (twelve of which were on a borrowed fat bike). I have to say, for a big-boned, has-been, mid-pack racer type who enjoys beer a bit too much (and pizza, pasta and cheese even more) I am happy with that. Sure, there were days in the past that I would do more than that in one afternoon; these are not those days.
My only real goal going into the fall is to get as many miles as I can in while looking for work (I think the miles will be easier to get than the job). If I can even get 8 to 10 hours a week of riding in, while being good bout my eating and liquid refreshments, I think I’ll be happy enough. It would be nice to lose some fat off my man-hams, but I’m not going to hold my breath for that.
This fall–unlike last fall and winter–I am forgoing the gym. Yes, yes, I know, I mentioned (too) many times last year about how going to the gym helped me gain strength, added muscle, got me out of the house, etc., etc., Well, it seems (from looking at my “training” records) that my time at the gym fell off significantly after I purchased the Pugsley and realized, yet again, that being outside is way more fun than being in a gym, even if it is lacking the numbers of spandex-clad lady-types.
Fall may not officially start for another twenty days, but in my world it has.
Later.
Photo: by me. It was the lone photo taken during the second of two, 14-ish mile laps on Sunday.
Since last Wednesday night’s ride, things in the bike department have been–and will continue to be–super slow until this Friday when I start what I am calling my “Second Season.”
Old habits are hard to break; like limiting myself to riding during daytime hours since I left my (cash paying) job in March of 2009. I mentioned this a couple of weeks ago, but it’s funny how true it really is and what other habits–good and bad–have come to replace a post-work ride on a weekday evening.
Let me say, this blog post was NOT supposed to be this long, it was just supposed to be a few photos from last night’s ride, but then I got thinking, wandered more than a bit off track and found myself “on the couch.” The short story is that I had a great ride on Wednesday evening (as illustrated above), the long story below is to be filed under Too Much Information or Never Has So Much Thought Gone Into Deciding To Go For a Fucking Ride. I don’t encourage you to read on, but do so if you wish.
My plan for Saturday morning was this: get up, drink 2 to 14 cups of Bust Ass Coffee, eat some sort of lame breakfast, watch football (YES!!!) and then head out to ride some singletrack north of town. All of that was on course to happen until I checked the radar on Weather-dot-look-at-all-these-ads-and lame human interest videos-dot-com and saw that my trails appeared to be getting pissed down on with rain by the uncontrollable, loose bladder of Ma Nature.
Plan B was activated.
Plan B was to grab the El Mariachi and head out for a couple of hours or so of pavement and dirt roads. Obviously not my first choice (made fucking obvious by the fact that it’s Plan B, NOT Plan A. But dirt is dirt, miles are miles, calories burnt are calories burnt and a fat, crap cyclist is a fat, crap cyclist).
Upon fetching the El Mariachi (my current “go-to” gravel road bike that is really just a hardtail mountain bike) from the Not-So-Stankment®, I realized that in a raging fit of laziness [surprised?] I failed to rinse the bike off after Tuesday’s muddy dirt road ride. No big, I sort of like riding around with what amounts to an extra 2 to 5 pounds of dried cement on my frame. What’s a few extra pounds of dried cement on my bike when I’m already sporting at least 15 extra pounds of beer, pizza and general fuck-up-ness around my ever broadening and bouncing midriff??? Nothing!
