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.
Monday was spent doing all the things that Monday brings, none of which were that fun, or had anything to do with riding my bike. Tuesday however brought some ride time south of town on the PrOcal in cool, fall conditions.
Last week started off well enough; I received my Fuji X-T1, the weather looked great for the week, and I felt really good during Monday’s ride. Then things went south, but not too far south.
Wednesday’s ride wasn’t just me rolling around singing 505 by Arctic Monkeys, it was also a nice 27.7 mile ride in perfect ride conditions. Sun, fluffy white clouds overhead, and comfortable temperatures with the slightest hint of a fall nip made for a perfect morning. There was some headwind heading north, but when you ride as slow as I do these days, it doesn’t really matter. Quick question: Other than 3 MPH, what’s the difference between going 13 MPH and 16 when you’re riding just to ride? Answer: Nothing.
From my best guesstimate I rode twice this week–Tuesday and Thursday thus far, with high hopes for some sort of crap riding over the next three or four days.
There was rain in the forecast again for Wednesday, and I really didn’t feel like getting caught out in the gritty mud and rain on the bike again, so I opted for a post-chiropractor trip to Deerfield Park for a four to five mile hike with my camera.
Sunday morning I sat at the computer and wrote a blog post about Saturday’s mountain bike ride. Then Wifey came into my office with some sort of failing DVD workout drama and interrupted me. I never did get around to actually publishing that post, and it was probably for the best. See, Saturday’s ride on singletrack didn’t go so well in the back and hip department, and I aborted after about 7 or 8 miles of riding. This left me in a hell of a funk, swearing that I would not even attempt to ride singletrack the rest of 2016, that all that physical therapy was a waste of time and money, and that I should just spend my Saturdays sitting in a comfy chair watching soccer, drinking until I pass out, blah, blah, blah, blah. And most of that stuff is true (especially the blah, blah, blah part).
Regardless of how poor the ride was, or how disappointed I was, I decided there was no point in spreading that self-pity around, and to focus on the fact that I had three rides under my expanding belt before I headed to MMCC to ride on Saturday, and those rides were just fine, so just get out to ride instead of sitting around bitching about one ride.
In my life I have been known to make grandiose statements and decisions that I was 100% certain of, only to change my mind later.
The past week has been blazingly hot here in Michigan with temps often hovering in the mid-90s. As I’ve mentioned several times in the past, mid-90 temps in Michigan are roughly equal to living on the surface of the sun, especially when you realize that we were getting snow flurries in early May! As much as my super large former fat man (on his way back again) sweat glands don’t mesh well with high heat, I won’t complain all that much, since I would rather ride in some heat than the cold.
The week hasn’t been ideal for riding, but I did force myself out into the heat for couple short rides over the past few days.
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.