I’m unsure when the last time I rode my bike was. According to this here blog it seems that it was a week ago today, but it feels like it could have been a month ago.
Posts Tagged → not doing stuff
Almost
Sunday morning after I finally had enough coffee and soccer I set about looking for all my cold weather gear so I could venture out into the windy 35˚ day and get a ride in.
I found my Lake winter shoes, thermal bibs, wool socks, base layers, and winter gloves. However the one item I couldn’t find was my balaclava. Not sure if it got lost in the move last spring or what, but the fact remained I didn’t have it. I figured what the hell it’s 35˚ not -35˚, and I did have a thermal skull-cap, so how bad could it be.
A Lumber in The Woods
Lumber
verb
lum·ber \ˈləm-bər\
1: to move ponderously [Ponderously, what the hell does that mean?]
Ponderous
adjective
pon·der·ous \ˈpän-d(ə-)rəs\
1: of very great weight [Seems about right]
2: unwieldy or clumsy because of weight and size [Yep, still seems right]
3: oppressively or unpleasantly dull [OK, that seems a bit much, but two out of three wins]
Wednesday night I had one of the best night’s sleep all week. Meaning that I didn’t spend the whole night mouth breathing and dealing with flu-like aches and pains for eight hours. Given that I haven’t done any physical activity since Saturday I knew I needed to do something–anything–outside. I was feeling better, but I also knew that a ride was probably not the best choice just yet, so I found my heavy (but water proof) crap hiking boots, and headed to one of our nearby county parks to lumber around the wet woods for four miles and take some photos.
I didn’t exactly burn four days’ worth of comfort foods and pity alcohol off my Merriam-Webster defined clumsy, oppressive, unpleasantly dull body of great weight and size, but I did get outside, took some photos, and enjoyed the first day of the week that I didn’t just want to sit in a vat of scalding hot chicken soup and pray for the end of days tethered to this planet.
Fall Keeps Falling
Each day, each week, each ride, fall continues to fall upon central Michigan. More and more fields are now bare; crops harvested and carted off to become Doritos, Big Macs, and corn flavored gasoline, leaving the landscape wide open for crisp winds to travel 3,800 miles from the Witch’s tit (located on a small island in the East Siberian Sea) all the way to rural Michigan to turn the nipples on my sagging pecs into glass cutting diamonds as I lumber along dirt roads on my bike.
Thankfully there are still some crops hanging on, and leaves remaining on the trees to keep all that from happening quite yet, but each day we creep a little closer to death, er, I mean winter.
Three In One
Last week featured a series of wet, foggy rides. Since then the sun has returned and the temperatures seem to have become a bit more moderate. Both welcome events.
Since my last post, I’ve been a bit busy, yet still managing to get some rides in. Three so far to be exact, starting with a short one last Saturday. A ride that I really didn’t feel like doing, but after some encouraging words from B-Man, and knowing that Sunday would be filled with driving down to the Detroit suburbs and back for a soccer game, I figured I’d better roll while I could.
Off and On
After three days off the bike traveling for B’s soccer, crap weather, busy-ness, and/or general laziness, I found myself back on the bike Tuesday morning for a foggy dirt road ride on the PrOcal.
Two Fat Ones
Despite the some crap weather this week, and being an even crapper cyclist these days, I managed to get out for four rides this week. They weren’t all that long, one in particular being under twenty miles due to an exterminator coming to rid us of a hornet’s nest on the side of the house, but I got out, got some miles in, and the rainy weather gave me that rural photographic doom and gloom that I enjoy so much.
Lost
My Garmin 500 shit the bed like Spud from Trainspotting last week, and no longer mounts up on my Mac. Despite hours of Googling, scouring bike forums, multiple resets, bitching, moaning, and nearly smashing it to pieces with a meat hammer, it just refuses to cooperate. Since then I’ve felt completely lost on the where’s, when’s, and what’s of my riding. Yes, those rides could probably be summed up with words like crap, crapper, and crappier, but I like to actually see the multiple layers of statistical crap on my computer screen.
Back To The Boone
Last Thursday I resurrected the Fatterson– Jesus vs. Lazarus-like–for a dirt road ride in which I whole heartedly expected messy, gobsmacking mud due to some thunderstorms that came through on Wednesday night. Instead I found tacky dirt roads that were near perfect for riding. So when I woke up on Friday morning and saw we had received more rain, I figured I might as well just roll the Boone since the dry roads have been sucking up the water pretty good.
Post PT Goodness
I had another early morning PT session on Wednesday. You would think a ride after a session with a therapist stretching, and ripping at my muscles and forcing me to work my core in a million different directions would have me super loose and ready to ride. Sadly, past experience has proved otherwise. Until Wednesday.