I’m Not a Vegan Creamy Vegan Tomato Soup with bread and vegan butter.
I visit you all here again with tales of wonderment, awe, and spectacular deeds done atop my bicycle!! No, not really. Not at all. But there’s soup! And pictures of my kid playing soccer!! The two main ingredients in any great crap—dare I say legendary infamous—cycling blog.
With a busy weekend of travel for B’s soccer ahead of me, I had hoped to get out for a ride on Friday morning. However, the 40+ mile per hour winds changed my mind and had me content to just get some stuff done around the house before we needed to head downstate for an evening match.
Despite having lived through 39 Pennsylvania winters and 7 Michigan winters I have yet to learn to embrace winter. I’ve got better at dealing with winter over the years by adding activities like snowshoeing and rides on the Fatterson with my camera into my routine but saying I embrace those activities is just crazy talk.
Last Thursday I resurrected the Fatterson– Jesus vs. Lazarus-like–for a dirt road ride in which I whole heartedly expected messy, gobsmacking mud due to some thunderstorms that came through on Wednesday night. Instead I found tacky dirt roads that were near perfect for riding. So when I woke up on Friday morning and saw we had received more rain, I figured I might as well just roll the Boone since the dry roads have been sucking up the water pretty good.
I’m not sure how it happened, but I SOMEHOW got myself up and out the door for a quick dirt road ride before B’s match today. Sure, up at 8 AM and riding by 9:05 shouldn’t be that big of a deal to most people, but most people aren’t the big, fat ball of slack that I am.
It seems like it’s been forever since I last rode my bike (or at least a week).
I am going to try my best to catch up on my blogging, if for no other reason than I want to. Reading this dross is up to you, typing it is up to me. The fact that either one of us takes the time to do either of those things baffles me.
I knew after Thursday’s 45 mile ride that the following days–especially the balls of the weekend– would feature less miles due to family commitments and forecasted rain. However that is not to say that the weekend sucked.
My plan for Saturday morning was this: get up, drink 2 to 14 cups of Bust Ass Coffee, eat some sort of lame breakfast, watch football (YES!!!) and then head out to ride some singletrack north of town. All of that was on course to happen until I checked the radar on Weather-dot-look-at-all-these-ads-and lame human interest videos-dot-com and saw that my trails appeared to be getting pissed down on with rain by the uncontrollable, loose bladder of Ma Nature.
Plan B was activated.
Plan B was to grab the El Mariachi and head out for a couple of hours or so of pavement and dirt roads. Obviously not my first choice (made fucking obvious by the fact that it’s Plan B, NOT Plan A. But dirt is dirt, miles are miles, calories burnt are calories burnt and a fat, crap cyclist is a fat, crap cyclist).
Upon fetching the El Mariachi (my current “go-to” gravel road bike that is really just a hardtail mountain bike) from the Not-So-Stankment®, I realized that in a raging fit of laziness [surprised?] I failed to rinse the bike off after Tuesday’s muddy dirt road ride. No big, I sort of like riding around with what amounts to an extra 2 to 5 pounds of dried cement on my frame. What’s a few extra pounds of dried cement on my bike when I’m already sporting at least 15 extra pounds of beer, pizza and general fuck-up-ness around my ever broadening and bouncing midriff??? Nothing!
It’s been way too long since I posted and I am starting to get grief from one of my two readers (Wifey), so, I figured I would post something quick until I get a real post together
