Just when I started to think that I might never ride my bike again; I did. I rode last Wednesday then my work schedule (who’d a thunk that would happen?), appointments and weather kept me out of the saddle for four days in a row. While it’s easy to blame all those things, it was mostly just laziness that prevented me from riding. What can I say, I’m pretty swell at being lazy.
As I headed to bed last night I knew what today was going to have in store for me: a trip to the dentist office to FINALLY get the left side of my mouth right (what?) and then working at the bike shop ’till six. On paper that is pretty swell, especially since I would have a few hours in the morning to putz around before work. Here’s what happened…
After feeling good on the bike yesterday, I found myself creeping around the house last night and early this morning like someone repeatedly hit me in the back with a baseball bat. Me thinks that my lower fat back did not take kindly to the hip stretches that I did yesterday, oddly enough, done to relieve me lower back pain! Typical me-ish-ness.
On Tuesday I got out for a quick 35 mile multi-surface road ride. There was little that was impressive about the ride: it was more pavement than dirt, featured little elevation gain and it wasn’t all that long. What was impressive about it was it was a perfect sunny day, there was little wind, I felt strangely good on the bike, and the bike itself [the Trek Boone Disc 5] continues to impress and woo me with its charms, whether I am on dirt, gravel or paved roads.
The weekend ended up being pretty crap for riding; it pissed down a hard rain all day Saturday, and Sunday was sunny, but windier than hell. Wifey got home around 1 PM from Pennsylvania and I had plenty of time to ride, but has absolutely NO desire to ride in the chilly June wind (yes, I said chilly and June in the same sentence, welcome to Michigan).
I am going to try my best to catch up on my blogging, if for no other reason than I want to. Reading this dross is up to you, typing it is up to me. The fact that either one of us takes the time to do either of those things baffles me.
I rode 47 miles of dirt roads and pavement today; it was swell. Then I showered, went for groceries, made dinner, did some laundry, took B to soccer practice (a half hour early of course to kick the ball around) and then met up with a friend of mine at a pub a couple blocks from home to chat over a few Duvels. All and all a pretty good Thursday.
My original plan for today was to go to the shop, work ’till 6 and get a couple of loops in on the Alma mountain bike trail after. Well, heavy rains last evening may have left the trail too soft for proper riding, so I ended up aborting.
Some late day reports said the trail was firm enough to ride, but by quitting time I had convinced myself otherwise and was content to just help myself to some carbon prep to aid the Superfly’s slipping seat post, work, and get home to see B-Man and Wifey.
I was also content to finally nab a pic of one of the buildings in the back alley of the shop. I wish I would have got it with one of my 35mm cameras (and still may) but for now was I am happy with what I got with my iPhone. Not sure why I get some enamoured with back alley shots, but I do.
After Saturday’s shoe incident, in which I drove twenty-five minutes north to MMCC for a ride only to realize I forgot my shoes, I headed back on Sunday for another attempt.
Successful cycling, or at least ENJOYABLE cycling, is a about many things: fitness, diet, the bike and a foolhardy commitment to a sport that 99.225% (that stat is made up) of America doesn’t even recognize as an actual sport, and forces its participants to face varying degrees of mocking, hatred, violence and derision [MURICA!!].
What the racers, pundits, and gods of the cycling world fail to mention–to pretty everyone–is that sometimes, success or failure as a cyclist comes down to one thing and one thing only: the shoes.
