Tag Archives | dirt road life

Still Here

What was that I said about things staying the same?

So far, my September has been better than my August was, but that’s not to say that I feel all pantsless and fancy-free.

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Some Standards

After adulting most of the day on Tuesday, I was anxious to re-enter the world of underemployed slack on Wednesday with a Standard Gravel™ Ride from the Cul-De-Sac-Shack.

The ride was a short 22.5-mile loop and was pretty “meh.” It wasn’t bad in any way; it was just as the name implies, “standard.” And these days, as I look to regain some shred of fitness, I’ll take feeling good after a quick dirt road ride all day long.

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Ending Months

I got out Thursday morning for a ride, but it soon became apparent that I didn’t have it in me. I was riding right into a steady wind that combined with overnight rain and morning sun to make things an un-fun, sticky mess. I did 15 miles, and that would have to scratch my workout itch for the day.

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Hitting & Missing Goals

I felt pretty good about my fitness after Saturday’s ride, so I was eager to get back out on Sunday.

I waffled back and forth about whether I wanted to ride from the Cul-De-Sac Shack or ride from a Soiled Chamois Approved Dirt Road Ride Launching Pad south of town. In the end, I decided to try and save time and beat the heat and shadeless sun by leaving from the house. I also hoped to add another mile or two to my Better Than The Trainer Ride™ along the way and help it lose said moniker.

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Ready To Canoodle

Shortly after hitting the publish button on my last post and digesting my daily Soiled Egg (White) Sammich, I gathered my bottles and gear, found my fender, stuffed myself into some too-small bibs and the only jersey I have that fits, and headed out for a SLIGHTLY Better Than The Trainer Ride™ before any rain moved back into the area.

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Doing Both

My Monday was filled with all the business that Monday brings, so I was confined to the Dreadmill™ for 3 miles of lumbering and sweating my ass off to the latest techno “hits” featuring “a good beat that you can dance to,” all the while trying not to fall off the damn thing to become another sad A.A.R.P. treadmill statistic. 

*Let us now bow our heads and remember all of our geriatric brothers and sisters who have fallen whilst booty-shaking on treadmills.*

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Better Than Nothing, Again

I was up at 6:15 AM on Friday to embrace whatever fresh hell moderate inconveniences the day might throw at me. It’s been raining for like three days straight, and when it’s not raining, it’s gloomy as fuck as if it were raining. So it took a few extra guzzles of coffee and the promise of sunshine later in the day to finally convince me to start thinking about possibly leaving the house to ride my bike.

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Day One Again

It’s become clear to me, via my bathroom scale, that my self-imposed extended layoff from riding has not helped (in ANY way whatsoever) my attempt at getting back to being a “husky” man who is a whisker under being morbidly obese. No offense to my fellow “husky” and “morbidly obese” friends and neighbors. “For there are many,” sayeth Luke. Luke, the dude that hangs out at the skatepark, not Luke of the Bible book.

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The Chronicles of Meh

My newfound custom of getting up early continued on Sunday, and with that, I got a shit ton of stuff done, including baking some crispy, crunchy toasted homemade muffin bread and installing an Ortleib bag bracket on the Fattishson (The Roscoe’s current name before it becomes a 29er in the future). 

Then I decided to ride.

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