As I’ve documented here more than a few times of late, I haven’t been riding outside that much. Wait, reverse that, I haven’t been riding outside at ALL. I was beating myself up about that, but looking back at previous years, it seems that it’s not that unusual for me to sequester myself inside to do stuff this time of year.
I got a pretty good week of fake riding in last week, coming in just under 100 miles with a shit ton of perceived climbing and vomit inducing efforts. I continue to be surprised at how much I’m enjoying these indoor efforts and how little desire I have to be outside riding in the slop. For now.
OK, I said I wouldn’t talk about riding indoors ’cause it’s not really riding, and there’s not too much to say about it. I’ve done a pretty good job with that, and there’s only been a few mentions of Zwifting on the Hammer in the Not So Stankment, but it appears that I am about to do it again. I’m sorry, but there’s more, trust me!
My days of late have been pretty much the same: time on the trainer, some walks in the slush-snow woods with my camera avoiding bullets, some evening beers, and early bedtimes.
I guess I got too cocky about the amount of activities that I was enjoying last week. Several quality indoor workouts and a nice dirt road ride had me looking forward to the weekend. But first I wanted to do one more indoor workout on Friday. I shouldn’t have.
When I was growing up back in Western PA, I was part of a small group of neighborhood kids somewhat close in age. In the years before the awkwardness of junior high and high school started up, we would play kickball, stickball, tag, and hide and seek late into the firefly filled humid summer nights before heading inside for bath time, snacks, and watching CHiPs on TV.
I put out a lot of “won’t dos” and “will dos” in my last post concerning my indoor training, and for the most part, I’ve been adhering to my self-imposed rules. Almost.
The wind has been the story around these parts over the past few days. Along with the wind, there’s also been a dose of bad-ish and good-ish luck and no riding.
For better or worse (probably worse) I tell the truth here. I don’t purport to be a better cyclist than I am, and I sure as hell don’t think I’m a better person the rest of you all (I’m pretty sure there are animals that are better humans than me). To some, this comes off as being a fat face malcontent, while others dig the vibe I set. I like that a few people read this shit, but in the end, it matters not. It’s here. It’s free.
Warning amateur photographer geekiness ahead!
This week has been a blur of sorts. More blur than riding, that’s for sure. One crap ride was squeezed in between storms and other duties. On Thursday I had about an hour and a half to spare, so I drove out to the Slyvan nature preserve to quickly test out some camera gear.