Some days time restraints, responsibilities and real life issues demand that a ride be short and to the point. And some days it’s just an overwhelming desire to be out in the chilly, depressing, gray, misty fall air for as little time as possible. Today was a mixture of both those things.
At some point during every one of my 22+ years as a cyclist, there has been one weekend in the fall that has me thinking “This just might be the last REALLY good ride weekend of the season.” This weekend was that weekend.
Fall continues to fall and I continue my best efforts to get out and ride when I can. Today I opted for another dirt road ride aboard the Farley fatty since that’s the bike that’s been the most fun to ride on the dirt roads lately. As I mentioned the other day, all I am really riding for now is to maintain enough fitness to do a few fat bike races this winter and to avoid becoming a complete slob (which some might say I am one meatball away from becoming).
After Saturday’s less than good ride at Hanson Hills, I found myself off the bike for two days. Family stuff, an away soccer match for B-Man and a doctor’s appointment, amongst other things, got in the way. Oh well, the only thing I’m “training” for right now is to not be the fattest guy on my block.
Last week was sort of shit for riding. High wind and rain were the biggest factor, fallowed by family activities and ongoing general mental malaise. I did get out for a bit on Saturday up at Hanson Hills. It wasn’t quite what I was hoping for, but it was something, and something is better than nothing.
I knew this week wouldn’t bring much riding and I was right, until it did.
My plan on Friday was to drive a bit up north to ride some seasonal roads, snowmobile trails and ORV roads on the fat bike before hard core, shoot everything that moves, firearm deer season starts next month. As of now, all I have to worry about is an arrow hurling through the air and plunging into my chest, I can live with that (or die like that).
I’ve done this ride three or four times before and have been pushing a bit further in my exploration each time. I didn’t push as far distance wise this time, but I did explore a bit more.
For the second day in a row, the Michiganderburgh winds were howling like a bean fueled anus in exit mode après an all you can eat chili bar with an endless Old Milwaukee keg that is two months past due. Gusts were getting well over 20 mph or more and a voice in my head was heard to say the phrase “FUCK THAT! I ain’t doin’ no dirt road ridin in THAT shit’.”
At this time in my life, I would never dare say that what I do on a bike is “intense,” “epic,” or the most overused word in the modern day cyclist’s lexicon– “rad.” However, I do usually have a loose plan for what I want to do. Most of my rides are based on time in the saddle (but usually by how much time I have), while others are merely based on a desired loop or the amount of miles I want to cover. What I rarely do is just putz around. What I mean by “putz around” is to ride without a planned route or set goal. I also rarely ride the trails of Deerfield Park, a local county park just a few minutes by car from my house. Today though, I not only putzed around, I putzed around on a bike at Deerfield Park.
I was able to get out for a short ride in between the rain drops, hail stones and gusting winds on Saturday morning. Ma Nature, was throwing everything she had–short of snow–at Michiganderburgh and I really have no idea how I managed to ride for over an hour without getting soaked or blown across the lake to Wisconsin.
