Trainers, Spuds & Dogs

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My mid-winter blog posts generally fall into four possible topics: riding my fatty outside, cooking up grub, riding the trainer, or Jake (the dog). The first of those topics is only mildly interesting, even to my closest of friends and family (even that is a stretch). The other three topics could surely be left unwritten about by me, especially on what purports itself to be a cycling blog. Well, since I didn’t ride outside today, I figured, I’d go ahead and talk about all three of those other things. Like they say, if you throw enough shit (or in this case shitty blog topics) against a wall, something is bound to stick.

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Winter Shutdown

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I am forty-three years old. That means that I’m getting older, as well as saggier, fatter and harrier in all the wrong places. It also means that I have endured forty-three winters. I’m not sure how many wet, slush filled shoes, slips on ice, scraped car windows, shoveled driveways and bouts of uncontrollable cuss-filled shivering that adds up to, but I’m sure it’s a lot.

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My Voice

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After I write a blog post, in a crap attempt at proof reading to make sure it sounds even a little bit correct, I find myself reading it out loud. I hate doing that because I really hate my voice. If you’ve ever heard any of the XXC Magazine podcasts, you know exactly what I’m talking about. My voice sort of sounds like a pubescent teenage boy (or girl) with a twist of Quentin Tarantino and not one tiny ounce of the talent.

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Waiting and Stuff

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The other day during one of my winter dirt road ride rambles I rode by one of the many crop irrigators that have been left to freeze their spouts off in the blustery, wide open Michiganderburgh fields over the winter. I stopped for a moment –perhaps to piss or to stretch out my aging, crap lower back –snapped a pic and then got to thinking how seeing these giant, mechanical, water giving beasts out in the winter makes me sort of sad. It provokes the same feeling I get when I look out my door and see my grill, which I have once again neglected to cover with tarp, covered with several inches of snow and ice. It provokes a feeling of anxious waiting. Waiting for the harsh mid-Michiganderburgh winter to end. Waiting for the return of the momentum halting spring winds, shadeless sun and dry summer air filled with the scent of manure. Sadly there are quite a few more weeks of snow, ice and frigid temps ahead of us before that happens.

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The Ride Before The Storm

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I write this post at half time of the Stuper fucking Bowl, an ode to everything I hate about American sports. BUT, that Stuper Bowl was an excuse for us to trek a few blocks over to our friend’s house, eat some food, drink a few beers and be goofs for an hour or so before we called it a night.

While we watched overpaid, grossly overweight NFL jagoffs run into each other, the snow and winds thrust down upon the mid-mitten with furious anger (that is hyperbole for it was snowing and blowing). That made me smile, not because I LIKE wind and snow, but because I had forced myself out yesterday to enjoy a couple of hours of pre-snowmageddon goodness.

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Breaking & Broke

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The trail reports coming from the strong armed, jackbooted thugs at Hanson Hills (that’s a joke, they’re completely nice from what I’ve experienced) via Stalkbook and from folks who rode the trail recently (I cannot confirm their niceness or jackbootedness) claimed that the fat bike trail there was in killer shape: firm, packed and fast. So my friend Napper and I headed north early Thursday morning in his Tundra-Ram-Osaurus truck type, four wheel drive thing in the hopes of riding said firm, packed and fast trails.

Then it snowed.

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Icy Roads & Lengthy Side Notes

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While much of the north-east is digging out from winter storm Scunthorpe or whatever this one’s called, we here in central Michiganderburgh have been snowless for roughly a week. It’s been cold, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s not been horrible and the sun has been out and that almost always makes moods better. While that makes for tolerable living, it also makes for a daily freeze thaw cycle that leaves the less traveled dirt roads glistening with ice, rutted snow and a few hoof prints.

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Iced Up & Studs Out

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Friday night after B-Man’s soccer practice and after I enjoyed a Hopslam while playing FIFA ’15, I started looking ahead to a possible fat gravel snirt road ramble on Saturday. I presumed that the packed snow that I rode in on Thursday morning, followed by warmer temperatures later in the day and into Friday, combined with well below freezing nighttime temperatures would be now be ice, so I made the not-so executive decision to stud up the Farley for the morning’s ride. It ended up being the right decision. At least I told myself it WOULD be the right decision as I rolled the 1.5 miles of wet pavement towards the snow and ice packed dirt roads sounding ever so much like a giant metal box full of silverware being dragged down the road by a Sherman tank.

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A Much Needed Ramble

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Firstly: The week did not provide the opportunities that I had hoped for as far as outdoor riding was concerned, but that’s not to say the week was void of activity. The trainer was forced into service and provided much heavy breathing and ample sweatyballness, as was the treadmill, which birthed some moderate success (for a lumbering, flailing, non-runner like myself) as I ran a complete 5k (without walking) for the first time in my life. 24 hour solo, 100 mile and XC mountain bike races– yes. Running for 3.1 miles without stopping– no. I know, I know, pathetic. But I did it, now I just have to transfer that to running outside and hopefully run a few races with Wifey and/or B-Man in the spring.

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