Rain Soaked Blubber

moss-covered-fence-post

After three months of hot, dusty, dry weather, we finally had some heavy on/off again rains Saturday evening. Because of that I had resound myself to not riding on Sunday, or riding the fatty to plow through the soft sand and mud on the dirt roads. While the first the first option was extremely appealing, I opted for the latter.

Continue reading

The Boiled Ham Rides

high-corn-in-front-red-barn

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.

Continue reading

Stupid vs Stupider

25203458810_1f696c264d_c

A fecal laced recipe of heavy snow, strong winds, little time, and the slap in the face realization that I need to lose a toddler sized amount of weight forced me into the Stankment™ to ride the trainer for three days in a row this week. I think it’s been two years or more since I rode the trainer that many days in a row! Ever since I picked up the Fatterson there’s been no need for such stupidity. Why do something stupid like pedal a bike to nowhere in your basement, when you can do something equally as stupid–yet oddly more fun–like ride a clown bike on snow covered dirt roads in 25˚ weather.

Continue reading

The Best Worst Ride (This Month)

bestworst

Since last Saturday’s “race,” riding has been somewhat limited by road and trail conditions, time, and desire. Other than that 4.5 mile snowshoe up north, my laziness kicked into high gear and my half-hearted attempts at strength training turned into quarter hearted attempts, and any time on the trainer was short-lived with a focus on “fuck it.”

It looked as if I could get in a dirt road ride in Saturday morning. With an eye on rising temps, I hoped that I could roll the studded Fatterson on frozen dirt and ice and avoid the slushy, muddy quagmire that the Michigan dirt roads would become as they thawed throughout the day. As you can see, I didn’t make it. I could have made it if I could have pushed my ass out the door earlier in the morning, but I got wrapped up in laziness, coffee, and FA Cup footy.

Continue reading