After several failed tries, I finally got back out on the Boone today for a dirt road ride. The last time I was on it (last Thursday) my ride was only about six miles long due to a broken spoke. Since then I have put the newly Napper laced rear wheel on, so today I was able to ride with a bit more confidence (at least until I break another one due to my expansive figure and muscular, thick thighs.
The winds were pretty high on Monday, so my desire to get out on the dirt roads was pretty low; I also had little want to drive to a trail head to ride my mountain bike. Instead I chose to take a day off the bike, a decision made easier by having got 26 miles of singletrack in on Sunday. Even without being in the saddle I did manage to get some outside activities in.
Thursday and Friday brought two days of crap dirt road rides on the Farley, and Saturday brought five hours at the shop followed by going to Ithaca to hang out for a couple of hours with friends at the 2015 8 Hours of Ithaca in the stifling heat that Ma Nature threw us. I was happy to have got out for rides on Thursday and Friday, but the were less than desirable. I was also OK with not racing Ithaca (that ship has sailed) and with not riding in the fresh turd like heat. However on Sunday I hoped to do SOMETHING of quality. Or at least as much quality as a 44-year-old man with an ever-expanding muffin top and a growing pork chop problem can muster.
After working eleven hours at the shop on Wednesday and knowing that I had the next two days off, I had a plan for my Thursday: sleep in (8:45 AM) and get thirty to forty miles of fast dirt road riding in on the Boone before cutting grass, trimming some hedges, going for groceries, doing laundry and getting B off to his last night of soccer camp, after which he would leave to spend the night with some friends and teammates while I enjoyed some white trash Mexican food and a cocktail or three while watching pre-season footy.
Here is how that worked out…
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.
Today I planned to do a lap at Mid plus some extra miles. Instead I ended up taking my hardtail bike for one last spin in an attempt to confirm that my body and the frame were not longer getting along.
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).
After four days in a row of riding, which included: a mountain bike ride in the woods, a fast dirt road ride on my Boone and two fat bike rambles on the Farley, I was back at work at the shop today. As always, it was nice to get back to contributing to society for 8+ hours. Of course I am not sure how much society appreciated me there to contribute to it.
The following is the unsolicited opinion piece you never knew you needed.
I’ve read various things, both positive and negative, in the past few weeks about gravel riding, gravel racing and gravel bikes [Gravel™]. Because I am a negative person, I tend to dwell on the negative comments rather than the positive. Guitar Ted writes that some folks feel that gravel racing has gotten “too big.” Yeah, a fringe race genre within a fringe sport, that 98% of America hates or doesn’t even know IS a sport has gotten too big. That’s like saying Fugazi got “too big.” For fuck’s sake people!
To my knowledge no one has ever put a gun to anyone’s head to do a gravel road race or any bike race. Of course I can’t rule out that some crazy ass Italian put a gun to someone’s head back in the early days of the Giro, or that more than a couple Keirin racers haven’t had a guns pointed at them by nut jobs with gambling arrears so as to produce desired results. But I digress…
As I mentioned yesterday, I needed to break free from my standard multi-surface loop and do something different. One idea was to venture out for another one of my fat bike photo rambles on the Farley (with all do respect to Gnat). When I woke up this morning that seemed to be the ride plan that produced the most girth to my loins–so that’s what I did.
