After yesterday’s 41 mile road ride (with a dash of dirt thrown in) I was eager to get back out on the bike today for some mileage. For today’s ride I had mapped out a ride that was a nugget’s hair over 50 miles and about a 50/50 mix of pavement and dirt roads. In other words, it was perfect.
Just when I thought that I would never emerge from the Stankment™–where I spent most of the week spinning junk miles on the trainer–Ma Nature threw us a dry, gorgeous, fairly wind-free day. I assumed (wrongly) that the dirt roads would be a sloppy mess after two days of heavy rain, so I opted for a 41 mile ride south of town. It was tits!
After three days of failed ride attempts (the trainer doesn’t count), I was able to get out for a shortish ride that was mostly pavement with a five mile stretch of dirt roads thrown in (mostly due to the fact that the pavement changed to dirt and I had no other choice).
I stayed up late Thursday night to greet Wifey when she arrived home from her week of dropping knowledge on work peeps in D.C.. After a brief meet and greet where we tried to catch each other up on the week’s events, it was off to bed so as to be up early for B’s parent/teacher conferences in the morning. Thankfully his school is literally right across the street and his conferences are usually a breeze. We were happy to get a good report from his teacher and even happier with word of continued straight A’s (pardon my proud dad moment, but straight A’s is something I NEVER saw in school. Hell, I’m not sure I ever got an A in anything besides my art classes).
Once home, B and Wifey headed out for the 6.5 hour drive back to western PA for a quick visit with family and I set about getting my bike ready for the day’s road ride.
I’m no expert on enemas or on heroin usage (thankfully), but I would almost have to think that the first ride on skinny(er) tires after a long winter of riding slow, fat, knobby, studded tires would compare to that of a Mark Renton approved heroin enema. Maybe I should just say that getting out today on skinny 35c tires (hey, that’s like a 23c to me!) felt pretty amazing compared to the past four months of riding tires so fat they make me look skinny? Either way, it felt good to get out.
My plan for Saturday morning was this: get up, drink 2 to 14 cups of Bust Ass Coffee, eat some sort of lame breakfast, watch football (YES!!!) and then head out to ride some singletrack north of town. All of that was on course to happen until I checked the radar on Weather-dot-look-at-all-these-ads-and lame human interest videos-dot-com and saw that my trails appeared to be getting pissed down on with rain by the uncontrollable, loose bladder of Ma Nature.
Plan B was activated.
Plan B was to grab the El Mariachi and head out for a couple of hours or so of pavement and dirt roads. Obviously not my first choice (made fucking obvious by the fact that it’s Plan B, NOT Plan A. But dirt is dirt, miles are miles, calories burnt are calories burnt and a fat, crap cyclist is a fat, crap cyclist).
Upon fetching the El Mariachi (my current “go-to” gravel road bike that is really just a hardtail mountain bike) from the Not-So-Stankment®, I realized that in a raging fit of laziness [surprised?] I failed to rinse the bike off after Tuesday’s muddy dirt road ride. No big, I sort of like riding around with what amounts to an extra 2 to 5 pounds of dried cement on my frame. What’s a few extra pounds of dried cement on my bike when I’m already sporting at least 15 extra pounds of beer, pizza and general fuck-up-ness around my ever broadening and bouncing midriff??? Nothing!
Lately I have been taking enjoyment from some strange things, and by “strange,” I don’t mean stupidly riding around the snowless woods on a heavy ass fat bike or my born again lust for women wearing tube socks. Not that those things aren’t fun or incredibly freaking hot, it’s just not what I am referring to. Read on if ye care, if ye don’t… well… don’t.
My ride plan today included a 45 mile road ride. Mother Nature’s supposed weather plans had me alter that to 25 and some core work on the big physio ball of pain and some mid-evil stretching exercises.
Yesterday (on the road for 41 miles), and today on the trail, was all about the scale. No, not the scale that tells me that I’ve gained 40 pounds since 2005 when I started this blog, fancied myself an endurance mountain bike racer who eventually realized he just likes to ride his bike on trails, gravel and roads, drink beer, eat good food and sometimes race, but the pain scale. I have to say, that even though I don’t like pain, I like this scale way more than that fucking, lying piece of shit in my bathroom… Forty pounds my ass!
This week has been made up of the following: riding, bitching, moaning, hate, expanding my liver, stretching, core work, ice therapy (to that area that makes up the gulf betweenst my two giant love handles) and adjustments to my riding position. Right now, things are going pretty darn, not bad. In fact, today I completed my normal 16 mile loop and on a pain scale of 1 to 10 I think it was merely a 4… maybe even a 3. Woot!
To go back a smidge, I got out yesterday on the road bike. I felt like shit… I felt great… I felt like shit… I felt great. Grrrr…
While I didn’t feel great over the entire 41 miles of crap Michigan roads, I felt well enough that I didn’t want to sell all my bikes and take up drinking and masturbation as my “go-to” hobbies (they will remain in the 2 and 3 slots).
And I as I said above, today’s slow/quick lap felt pretty OK… ish.
Later…. I have a couple other hobbies to take care of.
It took two days, but I was finally able to get out on the bike for a road ride. It has also taken what seems like a lifetime to get out on the road and not have multiple layers of clothing on. Not to jinx it, but looking at the long-range forecast, it seems like spring and/or summer may have finally sprung for good here in Michiganderburgh.
