
The second cup of coffee is now down my gullet. There is still much work to be done in the getting awake department and even more to be done in the wanting to be awake department as a cold rain pisses down outside my window.

The second cup of coffee is now down my gullet. There is still much work to be done in the getting awake department and even more to be done in the wanting to be awake department as a cold rain pisses down outside my window.

Back in early 2017 I had a doctor’s appointment in which I was encouraged to think about losing a few pounds. In turn, I cut back my liquid calories (beer), tried to control my portion sizes, upped my mileage on the bike, and flirted with the goal of 5,000 miles by January 1, 2018. That resulted in losing almost 15 pounds by my next visit in early May. I was stoked, at least for a little while.

After a horrible night’s sleep that involved various amounts of tossing, turning, numerous bladder emptyings, cussing, and restlessness, I was up at 6 AM to do all my normal Dad/husband duties, and prepare for another #blessed day (sorry, as you can see I’m #beingadick). Once all duties were complete I set my eyes on a quick ride before the meaty parts of the day kicked in.

Finding time to blather on about shit here is not something that I have ever had trouble with. Even back in the days of working a “real” full-time job at the paper (then busting my ass to publish XXC Mag), “racing,” and “training” for said “racing” all while helping to raise a young son, I somehow found time to publish this dross.
As your luck would have it, these days, I often find myself opting to spend my spare time processing the pics I’ve taken, having a few beers and watching soccer, or practicing my dance of seduction to woo Wifey into fighting crime with me. Let’s just say I spend a lot of time watching soccer, drinking beer, and processing photos. Anyway…

You might not know it from the shit I type on this digital fish wrap, but these days I really do try to look on the brighter side of things. I’ve lived so much of my life ashamed, depressed, moody, and bitter that sometimes it’s easier just to be Moody Bitter Guy rather than someone who can legitimately weigh the pros and cons of a situation and then make a rational, sane judgment. In other words, I’m learning how not to be an asshole.

You can’t avoid getting sick. Sorry.
B was sick over the weekend, Wifey is sick right now, and just about every classmate, coworker, coach, teammate, friend, lover, enemy, and germ spreading, narcissistic Trump voting sycophant in the tri-county area has been, or is, currently ill.
I am not sick, but I have no doubt I will be soon.

IT’S NOT FALL!! Well, at least not technically, but it’s starting to look like it. Shit.

The week thus far has been void of major miles.1 There has only been one ride so far and that clocked in at just over 29 miles. There were also two 3 mile interval runs lumbers on the treadmill due to time restraints, weather, and a twist of end of summer ennui.

Today as I readied my bottles for my ride I briefly thought about taking the PrOcal out. Then I remembered how packed down and fast the roads were yesterday morning and how well the Boone performed on said roads. “What could change in 24 hours?” I thought. It turns out the dumping of fresh gravel on just about every gravel road north of town is what. Cuss!

Sunday and Monday were spent off the bike; doing dad stuff, catching up on some work, goofing off, and going to the shop to swap from the too knobby for Michigan singletrack, side wall Stan’s weeping Maxxis Ikons to the trusted Bontrager XR2s. Thankfully on Tuesday, the Magic 8 ball of life had all signs pointing to a ride on dirt roads.