After 3.5 days of being ill, it was so awesome to wake up on Friday morning and not feel like I’d been drug through the street by a group of angry Stevie Wonder fans. It was even nicer to get me and my Goblin-ish chins and belly on the treadmill for a three-mile lumber, and nicer still to get out for a quick but satisfying 1:45 ramble on Michiganderburgh dirt roads via the Farley on Saturday. But…
The past two days seem more like one long, soggy day. Both days featured pretty OK temperatures (for December in Michigan), gray skies and a fog so heavy that it coated all of Michiganderburgh like cold, stank, three-day old, dirty dishwater. In fact, after two days of riding through the fog on muddy, dank, dirt roads, I feel pretty much the way the photo above looks. Everything is cold and wet and we’ve not had actual rain or snow since Monday! What the stink?
Monday night we got an inch or so of super wet, super sloppy snow. Here in town it is pretty much all gone. In fact, I hadn’t even thought about it since Tuesday morning when I was outside cleaning it off the driveway in my PJs; until I hit the dirt roads today.
I was up a bit late last night doing stupid things and up early this morning to do more stupid things like watching footy on TV, and I had little desire to ride. Until I thought about NOT riding and that made riding seem better. Strange.
Word on the dirt street was that today was Global Fat Bike Day. Even as a fat bike owner and rider I don’t know what that means, and since I’ve never been one to do what the masses do, I rode my El Mariachi for two hours on dirt roads north of town.
Twas swell… ish.
After my second flab flailing run of the week atop the treadmill yesterday (in which I somehow hurt my foot), I was anxious to get back on the bike today. I wasn’t so anxious to get out in the 20˚ temps, but the sun was out, things are bone dry and even if the winter turns pear-shaped tomorrow and shits down an ass ton of snow, this winter is already better than last winter, so I will embrace it and ride (or at least do my interpretation of riding, which these days seems to be rolling along snapping photos whilst I train for nothing in particular except not to move up another pants size).
We are currently void of snow here in the mid mitten, however we are sadly not void of cold ass temperatures. I can’t make up my mind if I am happy about that or not. On one hand, it is nice to go out and roll the El Mariachi on dusty, hard pack dirt roads, but since the temperatures are only in the mid-twenties (or worse) when I ride, I have to dress in all the same layers of winter clothing to do so… so, I might as well ride the Farley on snow pack. You dig?
After 5 days away I am finally back and “doing stuff.” Sadly, today, my “doing stuff” did not involved time on the bike. Instead it involved running shoes and 4.5 miles on the treadmill squeezed in between a variety of duties that were about as fun a lancing a boil with a dull knitting needle. BUT, in that hodgepodge of boil lancing I was able to drop off and pick up the first roll of film in my winter 2014/15 Holga experiment; it was a sub par success.
First we had snow, then we didn’t have snow, then we ALMOST had snow again, then I didn’t have time to ride (but time to run) and NOW we’re on the cusp of winter’s first mental demolition (within the Trifecta of Annual Holiday Evil): Thanksgiving.
Anyone who has ever come within three feet of me or this blog knows that I hate winter. I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I have learned to embrace it. However, that embrace is sort of like when you’re thirteen and one of your grandmother’s buxom friends decides that she wants, nay, NEEDS a hug upon meeting you. You’re not happy about it, but at some point during the embrace your realize that despite the woman’s advanced years, caked on makeup, wrinkles, eye watering perfume and ongoing fight with gravity, her extremely large, round boobs ARE indeed pressing into your chest. Sadly, no matter how hard your try, you end up using that bit later whilst in private*. You’re not happy about it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Riding in the winter is my touchy/feely big boob hug.
