After what seemed like weeks of steady sunshine–and cold ass temperatures–we here in mid Michigan have endured several days of gray skies, downpours and steady rain. The extent of my riding this week has been hour-long sessions on the trainer every day since Monday’s short 27 mile loop. Who knew you could ride junk miles on the trainer??
I know the title of this post suggests that this post is going to be about various sorts of glues, gases, pills, herbs and beverages that I may or may not be using to get high. As it is, I am on nothing. Sorry. But since Monday the weather has thrown me a bit of a velo-cock block and forced me to the Stankment and the trainer, so I figured I would waste your time talking about some things that I am digging right now, both on and off the bike.
There are plenty of things I should have been doing today instead of riding. We all know what those things are (probably what you did all day). I’m not happy about that, but there’s no use getting too worked up about it since I can’t do much about it.
So I rode my bike for a bit.
After what I would consider a good(ish) week of early March riding last week, this week has gotten off on the wrong pedal stroke and has felt slightly off. Monday greeted me with what some might call “a bout of irritable bowel.” I tend to be a bit more colorful and descriptive (at least when talking to Wifey) but I’ll just leave it at that for now and say that I’m not sure what’s up with my guts? OR what’s coming out of them!
Whether this photos is a scream, a cry for help or a yawn from Jake (the dog), it makes no difference. It pretty much sums up the week thus far.
Since Tuesday’s 30+ mile per hour wind gusts and -25˚ wind chills moved on, we here in central Michigan have been treated to a few days of brilliant sunshine and blue skies. Of course the lack of cloud cover also means that temperatures are struggling to get out of the single digits until well after lunch. Unfortunately, my time slot to ride is around 10 a.m., when the thermometer is grunting, groaning and moaning to get above zero.
Because of those high winds earlier in the week and the frigid temps that followed, I spent the first three days of this week hunkered down in the Stankment™ putting in miles running on the treadmill and riding the trainer. You would think that after forty-three years of living in the cold winter climates of Pennsylvania and Michigan I would be used to the cold and snow and would have learned to love it. Nope.
Like many of my cycling friends in Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota I try my best to be active through it, but unlike many of them, I always fail to embrace or love the winter. For me the result is always the same; I tolerate winter and merely try to survive it with my mind and liver still functioning properly and my pant size unchanged come spring.
But enough of that winter hating hyperbole, lets’ get to the winter riding hyperbole…
I took delivery of some new rubber today in the form of the WTB Nano TCS 2.1. I picked up the 700 x 40 version of the tires for the Jake The Snake late last fall and really liked the way they rolled on Michiganderburgh’s shit pavement, dirt and gravel roads. Sadly, I am less and less enamored with using a that cross bike for dirt road and gravel riding/racing and have been turning to my 2010 Salsa El Mariachi 99% of the time. So I decided to pick up some tubeless ready Nanos for the coming season of shit road riding. The wider girth and tubeless compatibility should be just what I am looking for. Hopefully they will be just as at ease on [dry] Michigan singletrack for days when I want to roll the hardtail.
I didn’t ride today. Or yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that. The day before THAT I did though.
Sweet Jesus it’s been two weeks since I rode my bike outside!!
I woke up today around 8 a.m. when Wifey came in the bedroom to fetch her eye glasses. I assumed she had been by my side all night, but it turns out she fled the room at some point, claiming that it got “too hot” in the bedroom. Since it was roughly -15˚ outside, I doubt that was true and this was most likely her way of telling me that the baked ziti I made for our Valentine’s Day celebration had taken the form of a vile, warm, humid gaseous cloud of digested red wine, garlic and sausage and had exited my flabby rears way too much though the night and had caused her to seek refuge elsewhere. Much apologies to my ginger haired, bosomy Valentine of what is now 20 years. You deserve better…much, much better. But I’m sure you know that already.
I am forty-three years old. That means that I’m getting older, as well as saggier, fatter and harrier in all the wrong places. It also means that I have endured forty-three winters. I’m not sure how many wet, slush filled shoes, slips on ice, scraped car windows, shoveled driveways and bouts of uncontrollable cuss-filled shivering that adds up to, but I’m sure it’s a lot.
