After three days off the bike due to soccer travel with B, weather, and “stuff,” I was finally able to get out for a ride on a dank fall morning. The ride started off bad, got worse, then got mildly tolerable. There’s no one to blame but myself, for as you all know very well, I. AM. AN. IDIOT.
Posts have been few are far between (it’s the least I can do for the people of the interwebs) but I have been well occupied, if not well while being occupied.
The second cup of coffee is now down my gullet. There is still much work to be done in the getting awake department and even more to be done in the wanting to be awake department as a cold rain pisses down outside my window.
Back in early 2017 I had a doctor’s appointment in which I was encouraged to think about losing a few pounds. In turn, I cut back my liquid calories (beer), tried to control my portion sizes, upped my mileage on the bike, and flirted with the goal of 5,000 miles by January 1, 2018. That resulted in losing almost 15 pounds by my next visit in early May. I was stoked, at least for a little while.
You can’t avoid getting sick. Sorry.
B was sick over the weekend, Wifey is sick right now, and just about every classmate, coworker, coach, teammate, friend, lover, enemy, and germ spreading, narcissistic Trump voting sycophant in the tri-county area has been, or is, currently ill.
I am not sick, but I have no doubt I will be soon.
At the end of my last post I mentioned that I was getting ready to head up to MMCC to ride some singletrack. I did, it was fun, and unbelievable that it happened nearly a week ago. I got sidetracked, then did other stuff, then got busy, then got sidetracked again. In this post I do some catchup with riding and life, mostly with the use of photos.
Today as I readied my bottles for my ride I briefly thought about taking the PrOcal out. Then I remembered how packed down and fast the roads were yesterday morning and how well the Boone performed on said roads. “What could change in 24 hours?” I thought. It turns out the dumping of fresh gravel on just about every gravel road north of town is what. Cuss!
The promise I made to myself to get back into the routine of riding and writing was short-lived. The riding part held up, but I fell short with the writing. I got caught up in processing photos from last Thursday night’s Alma MTB Time Trial, riding, taking and processing my own photos from rides and a rainy Saturday hike. There was also some bitterness and depression, too many beers, and bidding farewell to my friend Mike at his memorial service on Sunday.
Monday morning’s schedule had a variety of crap that needed done and I was content not to ride. Until I wasn’t. I found myself caught up and feeling guilty for not riding, so I kitted up for a rare late afternoon ride on dirt roads and pavement north of town.
Sunday morning I got up early to see Wifey and B off on their trip back to Pennsylvania. I’m not one to want to waste a perfectly good lazy Sunday morning, so I quickly returned to the Chamber of Farts to sleep for another hour as soon as the car was out of the drive.
