Posts Tagged → Fuji x100s

East of Omaha

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During the week as I did several Better Than The Trainer Rides™ I had an eye on Saturday and the hope that it would bring warmer temperatures, dry dirt roads, and some extended miles on said dirt roads. As it turns out the temperatures weren’t going to get warm until late afternoon, and the dirt roads remained muddy messes. On top of that Wifey was going to be back in Pittsburgh for the weekend, which meant that I was solely in charge of the boy until she arrived home Sunday. Since I don’t like to stray too far away from home–in case my mad parenting skills would be need to be called into action–I headed back to the paved roads of the B.T.T.T.R™ yet again.

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In Praise of The Avocado

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Pre-blog post note of sadness, guilt, regret and admission to you that the following has shit all to do with cycling, save for a tiny, tiny sliver.

Ma Nature decided welcome in March by puking down upwards of 8 inches of fresh snow and wind all day today. As I type at 7:25 E.C.T. (Easter Chamois Time) it continues to puke down and I have no doubt that B’s school will be is cancelled tomorrow. March; in like a dead, frozen, one-legged fucking lion. With that said, the only riding I did today was another sweaty hour on the trainer in the Stankment™.

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Pre-Snow Walkabout, Etc.

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After a weekend that featured back to back rides on the Boone, I haven’t been on a bike since. Other than some borderline useless Stankment™ based workouts, pre-moving chores, and some free design work for B’s soccer club, I’ve been a slug.

Wednesday I was jonzing to get out on the bike in the morning, but a winter storm was barreling down on Michigan and I didn’t want to get caught out in the snow storm, so I opted to attempt hiking in the woods again.

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Trying The Outside & Real Life

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On Wednesday I was filled with nervousness for a variety of reasons; the proud, yet daunting reality that my boy was turning 12, waiting for a response from our real estate agent concerning an offer Wifey and I made on a home, and I was attempting not to think about a job interview scheduled for Thursday morning. All of those things are good and/or potentially great things, but my mind can’t focus on too much change at once, so I knew I needed to get outside to blow the mental stink off of me.

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Stomp The Woods

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I had two different, yet similar, plans for doing stuff Wednesday:

A. Drive north a bit and ride some trails that the Godfather informed me might be swell for fat biking. Take some pics.

B. Drive north a bit and snowshoe some trails that the Godfather informed me might be swell for fat biking–or might not be–depending on the snowfall and recent grooming efforts. Take some pics.

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Grasping & Scratching

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While the northern lower peninsula of Michigan has been enjoying some steady snow, further south we have been stuck in a continuous mix of melting snow in the day, freezing snow in the night, along with ice, slush, rain and other wintertime fecal matter. The days since Saturday’s race have been a wasteland of [fun] physical activity and I find myself grasping at any legal means to keep myself motivated through the soggy, gray, wet crap-tastic days.

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Still No Cure

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Let me start by saying that this is NOT a “race report.” Ever fattening forty-four year old guys who haven’t raced in nearly two years shouldn’t write race reports. However, this is my blog, and pretty much my ride journal, so to an extent it is a race report. Just don’t expect much “racing.”

As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to go against the advice of doctors, priests, lawyers, heads of state, relatives, my dog, and public opinion by signing up for my first bike race in over twenty months: The Fat Chance at Crystal Mountain. I thought it made perfect sense to come out of race retirement in the middle of winter and do a fat bike race.

I’ve done a shit ton of XC and endurance mountain bike races, a bunch of gravel races, a few cross races (which I’ve sort of blocked out), and one road race (which, like being touched “down there” by a shirtless ice cream truck man, I pretend never happened). However this would be only my second fat bike race. How bad could it be?

Bad. Not all bad, but at the end it was clear that there is still no cure for stupid.

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Goofing Off, Sort Of

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After a short and sweet foggy ride on Saturday, I took Sunday just to goof off: watch soccer football, play FIFA ’16, and make food while drinking a few dozen pints of coffee, herbal tea, water, and a few other things completely void of, and starving of alcohol. My Monday was spent doing Monday stuff along with cursing, shoveling and blowing snow, and squeezing in a quick thirty minutes on the trainer combined with my loose, slack attempts at strength training. Fun, fun, fun… (not really, not at all).

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