I can guarantee you that when I look back on 2017, this week will NOT be in my top ten. Since Sunday the week was spent indoors as rain, snow, and high winds swirled incessantly over Michigan like the tongue of a weather making cunning linguist.
That’s not to say SOME good didn’t happen.
Earlier this month I lamented the fact that after a pretty sweet February of warmer weather and riding, March had come in like a lion with snow, ice, rain, and a lack of riding. Now here we are on the last day of the month and March is still twerking its wet, cold, slushy ass cheeks in the face of central Michigan like a trailer court queen drunk on wine coolers, wooing her step dad into paying for that dolphin tattoo she wants on her ankle. Thankfully I found some time–in between those unwanted wintry twerks–to get some miles in.
I got behind on this digital shit show, so playing some catch up here with a bit about yesterday, today.
Since Friday’s crap-tastic ride in the relentless wind I have done the following:
Saturday: Run, strength train, slack hard, hang with Wifey, drink beer, play video games.
Sunday: Take B to practice, slack harder, drink beer, play video games.
Monday: Catch up on web duties for various side/freelance projects, run, strength train.
In other words I didn’t ride, but 2 of the 3 days I did some “stuff.” Then 2 of the 3 days I did things to undo the stuff I did. But just think if I wouldn’t have done that “stuff.” The good “stuff,” not the bad stuff! We’ll call it all even… ish. This is why I don’t lose weight.
Finally Tuesday I rode. I rode pavement, and I rode dirt. Or as my friends at Terry’s Cycle say #morethanpavement.
This week has been an exercise in futility. The exercise of course being riding over 100 miles the past few days, and the futility being that despite those miles my weight hasn’t budged in a week. Not even a tenth of a mother f*cking goddamn pound one way or another. I blame the scale, I really do. F*ck that piece of shit.
[insert mental image of me frantically panting with a vein popping out of my enraged forehead like Ren Hoek here]
My plan for Tuesday was to not ride. My morning was spent doing laundry, writing a post for this crap site, returning emails and phone calls, taking care of some email issues for a website I maintain, and catching up on some other semi-work related things; all the while taking comfort in the fact that I was not out riding in the extremely crisp and breezy morning air. Until I was.
After three days of indoor workouts, I finally escaped the confines of the Cul-de-sac Shack’s underground bunker to pedal out of doors. However, given that at ride time it was about 27˚ with 10-15 MPH winds blowing out of the north-west, it took a LOT of self loathing, guilt, and promises of meaty lunchtime rewards to get me into the multiple layers of cold weather gear and out on the road.
So far this week [month?] there’s been a distinct lack of doing stuff outdoors, so today’s photo is from a ride back in February. I like the photo well enough but I hate the utility lines that cut through the middle of it. Yes, through the magic of Photoshop I removed them and the pic looked fine, but it didn’t feel right. I have no problem with retouching images to get rid of sauce spatter on a food photo, the zit on your nose, those nips poking through your wife’s t-shirt, or to make myself NOT look like the poster model for the upcoming, soon to be self-produced movie Dad Bod Gone Wild, Every Day I’m Jigglin’. In other words viva la narcissism! when it comes to spatter, zits, nips, and blubber, but in landscapes and/or documentary style photography I find it creepy and wrong (like hearing your parents talk about sex). So the power lines stay.
Goddamn you March…. Goddamn you straight to hell. Too much? Probably, but who cares.
After 48 straight hours of gusting 25 to 40 MPH winds that sounded like an eternal freight train passing by the house, things finally mellowed out on Thursday morning. I almost got used to the constant roar of wind through the pines and the sound of lawn furniture blowing off of patio decks, but I was glad to see them gone. Continue reading
March has come in like the expected lion, but more like a sad, fey, depressed lion that isn’t all that dangerous due to his lethargy and lack of motivation to kill. Still, it’s a lion and not to be f*cked with it.
This March lion has been void of any substantial snow fall, but has included plenty of general winter malaise: dark clouds, crap snow, cold rain, and as of today–super high winds that make the prospect of road riding not only unappealing, but dangerous and stupid. The bright side is that the 40+ MPH winds should dry out the dirt roads. So at least when the temps drop down to the 20s in a couple of days, the dirt roads will be dry… or frozen solid.
