2018 has arrived. Great.
I like to believe that a new year is a catalyst for change, but I am a realist (that’s code for pessimist) and greet the new year with as much enthusiasm as getting French kissed by your great aunt (the one with the perfume that smells like Febreze, sagging bosoms, and a beard).
The dump of snow we got last week, and all the potential outdoor fun that came with it, has turned to a sloppy mess. Warm temps and rain followed by falling temps have made things pretty useless. If the Fatterson was back I could probably get it out on the frozen slush and mess of the dirt roads, but since it’s waiting on a chain ring I am left to activities such as riding the trainer, “running” on the treadmill, lifting heavy things for no reason, and competitive flatulence. That means nothing to blog about or take photos of.
Since we’re almost done with this fucking fuck hole of a horrible year I figured I would give some of my top highlights and low light, digs and not digs of the year.
The week that was, er, wasn’t. There was very little riding over the last six days. There were a few trips down to the Not-So-Stankment to climb on the treadmill (including one five-mile walk, run, lumber-fest) and one trainer ride that lasted roughly 5 minutes before I said “fuck it” and quit.
Last week was a week filled with an unusual amount of riding; over 8 hours in the saddle as we entered the first week in December. Sadly, if the weather forecast is correct, I think all that might be the done for a while.
Chunky. No, not my muffin topped mid-drift, and no, not the sodium-heavy soups found in your grocery store. Chunky as in the consistency of the dirt that I would find my tires rambling over—and seemingly before me in every direction—on Wednesday’s ride.
Oh, the holidays. Not a fan. I struggle on so many levels to actually enjoy them that it’s not worth getting in to. The key for me is to find enjoyment where I can and to make the best of those situations.
My original Black Friday plan was to meet up with a friend of mine for lunch but that plan was nixed before it happened when he was forced to cancel. So, I went with Plan B: a Black Friday hike on the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail.
If there is one universal truth concerning my “doing stuff” in the months of November through March it is that the size of my water bottles is reduced. Under the mid-morning August sun I might drain two large-sized water bottles during a ride, come November I’m either doing stupid workouts indoors or riding outside in the full-nip cold and, despite still being needed, sucking down large amounts of water is pretty unlikely. Thus I start sipping from a smaller bottle instead of big ass magnums. Whatever, it’s just an observation, moving on…
‘Tis Tuesday, probably Wednesday for most readers, so let us first backtrack to Monday…
After a cold ride that failed on multiple levels on Friday, I reluctantly headed back out on Saturday to attempt some sort of redemption. Redemption was had, but just barely.
