Posts Tagged → sorry attempts at humor

Not Completely Stupid

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After Saturday’s debacle of a ride where I limped home a bonked, wind hammered, shell of a would-be cyclist, I took Sunday and Monday off the bike. Sunday I went to B’s soccer match, watched footy on TV, drank a few beers and cooked burgers on the grill. Monday I made sure to hydrate, got back to eating good, quality foods and hoped that the bonk I experienced on Saturday was just the result of poor post-ride recovery and Friday night hijinks. I hoped, prayed and fretted that I had not become so fat, slovenly and crap that I could do, 40, 45, 48 and 49.5 mile rides fine, but the mere idea of cresting 50 miles would turn me to a heap of human suck clad in lycra.

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The Week That Wasn’t

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This week has been kind of crap, and not just because last week was so freaking awesome! It’s been crap because of the weather (snow, seriously?), not riding outside thus far, annoying, dirt bag student neighbors (who will hopefully be leaving when the semester ends), poor sleep, and varying degrees of self-inflicted, random acts of stupidity from me (of which there were many).

On the brighter side of the week: no one died (yet), I haven’t gained the weight–which I’ve been working hard to lose over the past two weeks–back (yet), Wifey hasn’t left me (yet), B-Man doesn’t hate me (yet), and my various Trek bikes (how did that happen??) were not part of the galaxy wide skewer recall (yet).

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Mission Accomplished

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I was pretty spent after yesterday’s ride. The steady, east winds during the last half of the ride and running out of fluids with 11 miles to go had me happy to spend the rest of my day and night on the porch with Jake (the dog), listening to music, and enjoying some well-earned beers before putting some burgers on the grill later in the evening.

I was resigned to not riding today (Sunday); I’d had enough of the oppressive wind and was looking forward to sleeping in, watching more footy (I never seem to get enough) and being a waste of a human being whilst my family is away in Pennsylvania.

But with my week’s mileage hovering at 172.9, as much as I wanted to lay around, I just couldn’t. Surely I could muster up the balls to get a mere 27+ miles in and put myself over 200 miles for the week. Something that I haven’t done in quite some time. Probably not since my days of thinking I could/should/wanted to race my mountain bike for long distances.

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Spent, But…

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Despite my family unit being out-of-town for the weekend and the world that IS Mount Pleasant, Michigan at my social fingertips, I had a chill Friday evening alone making Bolognese sauce and pasta, drinking a few beers, sitting on the porch, and watching pirated downloads of Paris-Roubaix on TV. Truthfully I was pretty spent from the day’s ride and was more than happy to go to bed and enjoy several hours of slumber which was colorfully punctuated with dreams of intrigue featuring high-priced special effects, over paid guest stars (Jason Alexander, seriously??) and random memories of young women in black leggings and running shorts shopping in the Meijer produce aisle for ripe avocados. OK, that may have been a fantasy, not a dream, but still.

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Fatty Rides Again

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In a post earlier this month I mentioned how happy I was to be back on skinny (40c) tires and off of the Farley for a while. That time off of the Farley lasted about two weeks. It’s not that I found myself longing to ride slow, soft, heavy, four-inch tires on dry dirt roads or anything, but with Saturday’s ride time temps hovering around 30˚ I figured I might as well roll fat and slow, work harder and thus stay warmer.

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A Weekend [Two Parts]

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Part I (Friday & Saturday)

After two cold, windy days of riding out on the roads of Michiganderburgh last week I decided to skip riding on Friday and take shelter from the cool winds with a hike in the woods of Deerfield Park. It was nice to be out and enjoying the sunshine and crisp spring temps without having to be layered up in several moisture wicking layers of Lycra and wool. Still, it wasn’t riding.

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When I Say Jeans I Mean…

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Lord, fashion father almighty, forgive me for I have sinned against you and the Fashion Commandments that you have set forth before thee… in particular Commandment IX: Thou Shalt Not Wear Wrangler Jeans, They’re for Squares and Cowboys. I’m sorry my narcissistic fashion father, but I gotta tell you, they feel good and I’m sure I’ll do it again!

My faithful three readers, I also ask you for forgiveness, because I am about to bore you with yet another post that is 98.5% void of cycling and 98.5% about a pair of jeans that has me and my thighs a tad geeked.

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