It seems like forever since there’s been a legit blog post about me actually riding my bike (probably for the best as far as readers are concerned). There were a couple of days here and there that I may have been able to squeeze a ride in, but scheduling conflicts and/or weather fronts jacked my chances.
This week has given me very little and in return I have given back even less. So far, aside from two trips to the gym (with varying results) and spending ten minutes on the stationary trainer before saying “fuck it, this is like the dumbest thing ever,” I have pretty much done nothing. And when I say “nothing,” I mean NOTHING. Well, unless standing at the back door and blindly staring out the window wondering what people with real lives are doing is something, but I am pretty sure that qualifies as nothing. I guess I could consult The Idiot’s Guide to Depressive Slack & Ennui for an official ruling, but I’m way too busy doing nothing .
This week has been a strange one as far as me “doing stuff.” Sadly, it only allowed me one day of “real” riding: Wednesday’s hour and a half fat bike ride. The rest of the week has been a hodgepodge of trips to the gym and time spent on the trainer. Not the best of weeks, but better than many I’ve had.
I was up early today and had no problem convincing myself to get on the trainer.* The problem I had was actually forcing myself to pedal the bike on the trainer. The first minutes of my warm up were spent cursing the vile winter for forcing me to the trainer again and my belly which was bouncing off my legs like a gelatinous, beer filled, lycra covered sack with each pedal stroke. Cuss me! CUSS ME TO HELL! (or reasonable facsimile).
After mentally cracking for what may have been the 84th time in my life last week and vowing to spend the rest of this godforsaken endless winter under beer fueled fart smelling blankets in a curtains closed bedroom, I pulled up my grown fat man bibs and forced myself out into the snow to ride today. I have to say it was worth every second of the 21 minutes it took me to stuff my fat ass into three layers of cycling and cold weather gear.
The following post was originally published in XXC Magazine No. 5 (late fall 2009) and is reprinted with permission from the author (which is me). While I no longer have goals geared towards ultra endurance racing (dwindling fitness and a series of blood clots now have me pursuing races 50 miles and under) the sentiment and my love of mountain biking remains.
Lately, blogging has been pretty easy and my mind has been pretty generous with topics. Sadly, that ended today. Feel free to read on but I can’t promise much (except a bunch of photos and that the blog is even more lackluster than usual)….
A well used ceramic space heater sat humming at my feet as I sat sipping my third cup of coffee and staring blankly into my computer monitor. I had long given up on it producing anything worth while and now aimlessly clicked through dead-end after dead-end on Monster.com, hyperbolic football gossip on The Daily Mail and finally full circle back to weather.com where I had started my morning off three hours earlier. I was pleased to see that it was warming up, however I was disappointed to see that all that meant was that it was now 4˚ and not -4˚. Thoughts of climbing on the trainer in my basement now entered my head as I took a big sip of my now ice-cold coffee. Fuck.
I will be on hiatus from the ice, snow and this digital fish wrap I call a blog for the next 5 days or so whilst taking part in some scheduled family activities. I am almost positive that I will bring down any possibility of fun or relaxation for my family just by being there, but it’s worth a shot… I guess… maybe…
I opened my eyes, rolled over and shut off the alarm clock a mere minute before the French ambulance siren on speed screech could emanate from its tiny speaker. I stretched, unfurled my man blubber, let out a loud clack of a fart and tried to remind myself of why I had the alarm set for 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Oh yeah, Wifey asked me to set the alarm, because she had an appointment with the Lord, or was at least going to church to meet up with B-Man who stayed the night at a friend’s house and would be attending 9 a.m. mass with his family.
It happened so fast, I really don’t know how it happened…. How did I go from a guy who was more than happy to chime in and talk shit on fat bikes and how there was NO way I was going to spend money on bike that weighs nearly 40 pounds just to ride in the snow and cold, to riding a fat bike just being part of my week? How????