Last Thursday I headed back to western PA for a couple-ish days. I wasn’t all that keen to make a trip back right now, but with my dad recovering from a recent heart attack, I thought it was only proper to head home, check up on him, and pay a visit. It would also give me and my family a chance to catch up with some great friends that we haven’t seen in a while. I wish I could have seen a few others during my stay, but that will have to wait for later in the summer or fall.
After a great ride in the woods on Monday morning, Monday night brought some long overdue rain to mid-Michigan. The cool temperatures, dark clouds and knowledge that I had nowhere to be Tuesday morning made it real easy to sleep in and be no use to anyone. I like easy, so that’s what I did, and it felt damn good.
After four days on the bike, it was time for two days off the bike this week. Meaning I was working at the bike shop for 17 hours (not in a row obviously).
Wifey had to got into work this morning to make sure some sort of legal, shmegal software worked properly for her .gov people. She was also expecting a FedEx package at home containing a new work credit card for her upcoming trip our nation’s capital on Sunday. Since she couldn’t be in two places at one time, I had to lay around and wait for Mr. FedEx Man.
It seems like it’s been forever since I last rode my bike (or at least a week).
After working all day at the shop on Thursday, my plan for Friday was to get in some miles on the Boone. Sadly, that didn’t happen. Instead it pissed down Old Testament-esque rains all morning and the rest of the day was filled with FINALLY getting a permanent crown put on one of my teeth and dealing with a backed up main drain which resulted in plumbers in the house to snake it. The only highlight was celebrating Wifey’s 44th birthday.
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…
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).
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.
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.
