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.
After spending what seemed like all of January in a frigid, vile funk that reeked of self-loathing, miserableness, ennui, WAY too many double IPAs, and white trash Mexican food, I have finally escaped said funk like a freshly birthed whale exiting its mother’s birthin’ bits.
That’s not to say that things are all beer and Skittles in my world, but riding three of the past five days and having the chance to ramble around the snirt roads on the Fatterson with my camera has me feeling a shit ton better of about life (as long as I don’t watch the news, look in a mirror, peruse the want ads, or step on a scale).
Friday’s ride was just the mental enema that was needed to clean out the brain sludge that had has been accumulating over the past few weeks. Because of that, I was eager to get back out on Saturday.
Early parts of this week brought shit weather that included steady cold rains that made the dirt and gravel roads even more of a quagmire than they already were. This caused me to retreat to the Not So Stankment and time on the dreadmill and/or to The Chamber of Farts to climb under the covers and wish myself somewhere else.
The week that was, er, wasn’t. There was very little riding over the last six days. There were a few trips down to the Not-So-Stankment to climb on the treadmill (including one five-mile walk, run, lumber-fest) and one trainer ride that lasted roughly 5 minutes before I said “fuck it” and quit.
Last week was a week filled with an unusual amount of riding; over 8 hours in the saddle as we entered the first week in December. Sadly, if the weather forecast is correct, I think all that might be the done for a while.
Chunky. No, not my muffin topped mid-drift, and no, not the sodium-heavy soups found in your grocery store. Chunky as in the consistency of the dirt that I would find my tires rambling over—and seemingly before me in every direction—on Wednesday’s ride.
After a few days away from home, it’s been nice to settle back in and to get some riding in. Monday’s ride was a quick loop north of town in the crisp morning air. Tuesday would bring spring-like temps to mid-Michigan, but would also bring steady winds with gusts exceeding 25 miles per hour.
The debate on whether to ride or not raged for most of Monday morning. I weighed options, leaned towards making an alternate plan to get stuff done and avoid venturing out of doors on the bike for what would be a 9th straight day but ultimately said “fuck it” and went for a ride.
‘Tis Tuesday, probably Wednesday for most readers, so let us first backtrack to Monday…
