People say that life is full of bad decisions, that you can learn from your mistakes and all sorts of bullshit like that. I hope that there is some truth to in those words, but rarely in my life have a learned anything from my bad decisions — other than I make a lot of bad decisions.
After a beautiful ride in the July sun on Friday, I did everything I could to motivate myself for another ride on Saturday. It didn’t happen.
After Saturday’s sweat-soaked, meaty dick slap to the face/Breezies™ huff of a shit ride in the heat and humidity, I was toast (almost literally). I felt almost as broken as I do after every ride from December to April. Only this time I was shaking my fist angrily towards the heavens cursing the unholy creation of heat and humidity instead of snow and sub-zero wind chills. A break was due.
The past week contained a little bit of riding, goofing off in the woods with my camera, hanging out with friends, some blood, and some shit. Literally, some shit.
In the last post, I mentioned a couple of things that proved false, so I will address them here.
Finally, after three days off the bike due to a slight rib injury, I was back on the bike for a quick ride north of town.
Me last week:
I know that some back and hip pain a few years ago, combined with the lack of a need to “train,” derailed my mountain biking but I’m not sure when I just gave up on it. In any event, I don’t plan on letting that happen anymore. I am promising myself to return to riding trails once a week at the very least.
The great thing about being a non-racing, chubby dad-bod type cyclist is that sometimes, even on a perfect spring day in Michigan, you can say “Fuck it, I don’t feel like riding.” Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something outside.
I had hoped to return to the dirt roads for some miles on Tuesday morning, but heavy thunderstorms overnight and morning rain had me thinking otherwise. The idea of the fresh dirt put down by the county combined with heavy rain was not something I felt like putting myself—or my drivetrain—through. So, I headed into the wet woods to stomp out a couple of miles with my camera before getting home to do what I do. Which is hard to put into words, so I won’t.
I’m not sure what happened, but I nearly lost track of what “stuff” I did this earlier this week. I truly forgot; until I remembered.
