Tag Archives | Gravel

Plans Change

July ended with increasing miles on the bike and decreasing numbers on the scale. Still, my plan for Sunday was to take the day off from workouts or rides and just goof off.

That was the plan, then about an hour after I wrote a blog post and started said plan for goofing off, I headed to the Not So Stankment to get on the Dreadmill. In other words, the plan failed.

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Ready To Canoodle

Shortly after hitting the publish button on my last post and digesting my daily Soiled Egg (White) Sammich, I gathered my bottles and gear, found my fender, stuffed myself into some too-small bibs and the only jersey I have that fits, and headed out for a SLIGHTLY Better Than The Trainer Ride™ before any rain moved back into the area.

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Rides & Bacon Strips

Wednesday, I needed to shoot over to the local lab to get some bloodwork done, and then it was home to the savory arms of a 225 calorie Soiled Egg Sammich1 before getting into some kit, looking at myself in the mirror, thinking about taking the kit off and downing a bottle of gin, aborting that boozy plan for some reason, and then going for a short 20-mile dirt road ride that hurt like it was 120.

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The Chronicles of Meh

My newfound custom of getting up early continued on Sunday, and with that, I got a shit ton of stuff done, including baking some crispy, crunchy toasted homemade muffin bread and installing an Ortleib bag bracket on the Fattishson (The Roscoe’s current name before it becomes a 29er in the future). 

Then I decided to ride.

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A Fatter Plan of Sorts

The past week was filled with miles on the Dreadmill, some prison-style weight training, and a tall drink or twelve of “Well, at least January is fucking over.”

I took some pics around the Cul-De-Sac-Shack (two of which you see here), but outdoor activities were limited due to a winter storm and my distaste for being cold.

Yeah, I know, nothing makes one sound old like talking about the weather, but I’m going to talk about it anyway. I’m also going to talk a little about bikes, which is something I rarely do these days on this cycling blog turned outlet for idiocy.

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Proved Wrong, Again

On Saturday, I actually surprised myself. No, I didn’t finally eat that 30 piece party tray pizza from Gluttonz Pizza®. I said I might ride, confessed that it probably wouldn’t happen, and then I rode.

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