After three days off the bike traveling for B’s soccer, crap weather, busy-ness, and/or general laziness, I found myself back on the bike Tuesday morning for a foggy dirt road ride on the PrOcal.
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Nothing, Then South & North
Monday was spent doing all the things that Monday brings, none of which were that fun, or had anything to do with riding my bike. Tuesday however brought some ride time south of town on the PrOcal in cool, fall conditions.
Stank Memories #TBT
This morning as I ate a hastily thrown together peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and threw back a large gulp of Starbucks® K-Cup® coffee (don’t judge!), I was hit with a memory from my time doing endurance mountain bike races, many of which required overnight stays.
Until I got too soft and started opting for crap hotel rooms–often given the “Cuckhold Room®'” against my wishes, even though I explained that my buddy’s wife was only there because we were too cheap poor to get our own rooms–most of the time those overnighters meant camping; either in a leaky, crap tent (why did it ALWAYS rain???), or the back of my [insert your choice of boxy, imported vehicles I’ve owned here].
I Rode Too
Wednesday’s ride wasn’t just me rolling around singing 505 by Arctic Monkeys, it was also a nice 27.7 mile ride in perfect ride conditions. Sun, fluffy white clouds overhead, and comfortable temperatures with the slightest hint of a fall nip made for a perfect morning. There was some headwind heading north, but when you ride as slow as I do these days, it doesn’t really matter. Quick question: Other than 3 MPH, what’s the difference between going 13 MPH and 16 when you’re riding just to ride? Answer: Nothing.
A Loop With Car Seat Headrest
Friday morning, just before Wifey and B took off for PA to visit her family, Wifey gave me a hug goodbye, I copped a feel, and she told me to have a good weekend, but not to do that thing where I ride singletrack, experience back and hip pain the whole time, get depressed, and come home and drink to kill the mental and physical pain of being old and shit. My mind and mouth said “yes dear,” but my heart and legs said “Fffffuckkk off! You don’t own me woman! I can do what I want, yo!” (not really, not even one tiny little bit).
And with that I was good. I ate some breakfast, drank coffee, looked at the inter-web-o-sphere, and then went for a 31 mile dirt road ride south of town.
Two So Far, I Think
From my best guesstimate I rode twice this week–Tuesday and Thursday thus far, with high hopes for some sort of crap riding over the next three or four days.
Three Barn Road Ride
Memorializing & Stuff
Sunday was a blissful day off the bike, fucking around in the pre-summer, holiday weekend sun. Late afternoon Wifey, B, and I headed south of town for a picnic with some friends. They live off one of the dirt roads I ride on often and it was a picturesque setting for a cookout. On one side of their house was a never-ending field of recently planted soy beans, and on the other was a wheat field. We had beers, grilled chicken, talked, had a bonfire, and goofed off. It was pretty darn next to perfect.
For some reason I had fitful night of sleep on Sunday (bad gas), and woke up Monday craving more and more sleep, and wishing my gut could rid itself of all that Texas Caviar I ate. In any event, I was happy to have the Memorial Day holiday to chill and get out on my bike.
I thought about driving up for another go at the MMCC trails, but was in the end was content to hang ’round the house for a bit, make some French press coffee, and then head out for a local dirt road ride.
The wind was blowing pretty steady from the west, and those first 8 miles westward were a taint-grinder, only made slightly easier by being all on pavement.
Once off of pavement, the next 17 miles would be all dirt and gravel roads featuring not-s0-bad cross winds, blessed tailwinds, and more than a few cows out munching grass in the Memorial Day sun.
The just over 30 mile loop I did has become my go-to road loop from the house. It used to be roughly 35 miles, but then we moved out of town, and four miles of paved town riding was eliminated. I keep saying that I’m going to make up those miles somewhere out on the dirt, but have yet to really do it. My slack is strong.
Once home it was time to chill on the porch with a beverage or three, watch no cars drive by the house, and listen to some tunes before throwing some chicken thighs on the grill, roasting some asparagus, and cooking up some homemade mac and cheese.
It was a really good holiday weekend, and a great way to kick off Summer 2016.
Later.
Happily Fighting Through It
With my Saturday morning sadly void of Premier League football to watch, and the Champions League final not coming on until around 3 that afternoon, I decided to once again return to woods for some miles on the PrOcal.
Here I Go Again, Fade To Black
Thursday night I met my friend, and fellow cyclist, Mike at our local brew pub for a couple of pints. While we were sitting there watching the hockey game (LET’S GO PENS!) the song Here I Go Again by Whitesnake came on the pub’s radio. I remarked to Mike, and our barmaid Gale, that for some reason this was my high school class song (class of ’89). Even though I didn’t vote for the song (my vote was cast for Metallica’s Fade to Black), there was a certain sense of nostalgia as I listened to the song and watched the Pens, something that I did quite a bit of through the 80s and early 90s before being priced out of attending games, and turned off by the NHL’s relentless expansion teams.