I had two different, yet similar, plans for doing stuff Wednesday:
A. Drive north a bit and ride some trails that the Godfather informed me might be swell for fat biking. Take some pics.
B. Drive north a bit and snowshoe some trails that the Godfather informed me might be swell for fat biking–or might not be–depending on the snowfall and recent grooming efforts. Take some pics.
Let me start by saying that this is NOT a “race report.” Ever fattening forty-four year old guys who haven’t raced in nearly two years shouldn’t write race reports. However, this is my blog, and pretty much my ride journal, so to an extent it is a race report. Just don’t expect much “racing.”
As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to go against the advice of doctors, priests, lawyers, heads of state, relatives, my dog, and public opinion by signing up for my first bike race in over twenty months: The Fat Chance at Crystal Mountain. I thought it made perfect sense to come out of race retirement in the middle of winter and do a fat bike race.
I’ve done a shit ton of XC and endurance mountain bike races, a bunch of gravel races, a few cross races (which I’ve sort of blocked out), and one road race (which, like being touched “down there” by a shirtless ice cream truck man, I pretend never happened). However this would be only my second fat bike race. How bad could it be?
Bad. Not all bad, but at the end it was clear that there is still no cure for stupid.
Thursday brought three ride options, four if you count riding the trainer in the Stankment™, which I’m not, ’cause that sucks:
1. Ride snow-covered dirt roads on the Fatterson with my camera.
2. Drive down to Alma and do some solo laps on the Fatterson.
3. Meet folks at 6 in Alma do some night laps on the Fatterson.
As you can see, the Fatterson was going to play a part in the day’s ride time festivities, it was just a matter of which one I picked. Part of me really wanted to do the Terry’s group ride, and I even went so far as to charge my lights the night before, but when push came to pedal I opted for the convenient and photo friendly snirt roads.
January is notoriously the hardest month for me to get through, especially here in Michigan; it’s long, cold, snowy, icy, and as of late it’s been foggy. Snow and ice on the ground, followed by rain and warmer temperatures meant that a heavy fog rolled into the Mt. Pleazy area on Friday night and it stuck around well into Saturday morning afternoon. Not ideal conditions for getting out for a road ride, but with the rains predicted to changeover to snow Saturday night, I wanted to get a few (emphasis on few) miles in.
Thursday morning after I got B off to school I found myself waffling on when and where to squeeze a ride in, or if I wanted to at all. I should really do that second strength training session of the week, and conditions aren’t that ideal right now with many of the snirt roads being covered with every imaginable form of winter: ice, snow, slush, mud, water, dead squirrels, etc., etc. But with rain in the forecast, which will undoubtedly make the dirt and snow (snirt) into miles and miles of gritty chilled diarrhea, I figured I’d better roll while the rolling’s good.
Yesterday’s short, sweet. intense ride on the trainer (yuck!) was semi-enjoyable, but as I mentioned in the last post, there really is nothing like riding outside. So that’s what I did. But not before some Fredwardian maintenance.
The other day while riding along talking with friends on the New Year’s Day group ride, many folks (myself included) were talking about how the dawn of the fat bike has made riding our trainers all but a thing of the past. So far this fall/early winter I have spent a whopping four minutes on the trainer. I tried, but I just couldn’t do it. When forced indoors for physical activities I’ve been more than content with running intervals and jogging on the treadmill and strength training. You just can’t beat the mental rub and a tug of riding your bike outside, no matter what the weather, and I wasn’t going to sully that feeling with time spent pedaling and going nowhere for no reason.
Then yesterday happened.
Some might call it boring, but I call it the best New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day combo I’ve in a long time. Let me share (or not, no one is forcing you to read this dross)…
It’s been a week since the girth of my flabby ass cheeks rubbed up against a bike saddle. During that time I ate and drank a LOT. Ham, beef, potatoes, pizza, whole blocks of cheese, sweets, cookies, beer, and gin fueled cocktails all found their way into the muffin-like stomach that spills over my too tight jeans. I also spent nearly fourteen hours in the car driving to and from Pennsylvania for the Christmas holiday. I slept like shit, ate like shit, and I’ve felt like a fleshy turd mentally and physically over the past week.
Now back into the frigid bosom of Michigan, I was given the choice to either run on the treadmill in the Stankment® or head out into the crisp air and wind for a Better Than The Trainer Ride™ in an attempt to make a dent in all that flab. With Monday calling for freezing rain and sleet, I chose to ride and save the indoor miserableness for Monday.
As the Christmas holiday approaches, riding has slowed down a bit. A drop in temperatures and high winds had me opting out of rides on Friday and Saturday. However Sunday I did get in the woods for a lap at MMCC on the Procaliber.
