In my last post I was riding the high of coming off an excellent (enough) month of riding. Because of that high I thought I was mentally prepared for the predicted drop in temperatures, rain, snow, and lack of outside riding that the rest of this week would surely be offering. I was wrong.
I feel like I need to say a big thank you to February. THANK YOU!
You see my winter riding goal is usually to get out at least once a week, braving the cold, snow and ice on the Fatterson with studded tires. The rides are usually no longer than 20-25 miles, I’m cold and miserable for most of the ride, and I swear that I’ll never do it again as I mentally plan my “let’s move someplace warm” sales pitch to Wifey. The rest of the time I hole up in the basement on the Drainer® or the Dreadmill® and pray that I’ll miraculously find fitness, despite not riding and drinking too much beer. Even back when I gave a shit about racing (that seems like a long time ago) I didn’t venture out too often in January and February. I would go to the gym, strength train, ride the trainer and use the StairMaster for hours on end.
Riding three out of four days in February is cherished, even if they yield a mere 75 miles combined. Most of the miles were forced to be done on pavement, due to the dirt roads being a bottom bracket grinding, potential collarbone breaking, concoction of ice, slush, mud, standing water, and gritty sand.
You may wonder how the following relates to a cycling blog. Stick with it, I have a point eventually, you just have to sift through some ranting. Keep in mind there is surely a dose of hypocrisy, preachiness, and anger even though in my head it all makes perfect sense. Read at your own risk, or feel free to read something not a crap cycling blog. It’s totally your call.
Over the past few months I haven’t been sleeping very well. There are many “might-bes” and “could-bes,” which include such things as too much coffee, not enough riding, worry that my family’s entire world could come crashing down at any moment, and an ever-growing affection for nihilism. No matter the cause, counting sheep, masturbating, counting sheep masturbating, and masturbating while counting sheep only gets one so far, and I’ve found myself with time to think. This is both good (the time has allowed me to put some creative wheels in motion), and bad (see much of this paragraph). However in addition to all of that I have also had some thoughts that hover in the middle grounds between fond memories, existential ennui, and the want for simpler times.
There has been a distinct lack of things happening over the past week. Quality outside riding was once again shelved due to ice, then deep mud, then ice again, now more crap snow. Then my running was shelved because I stubbed my toe and ripped the toenail off (that felt just as you might imagine), which left it looking like it was gnawed on by a wolverine.
NOTE: Posting has been lagging lately due to the fact that most of my time spent “doing stuff” has been done indoors. There is no real creative joy in posting daily updates about crap three-mile runs on the treadmill. Hopefully I get outside soon. Crap or not, after a week of running/lumbering nearly 20 miles to nowhere I had time to think about the direction that I want to take my life. I’m not one for New Year’s Resolutions, or at least not very good at keeping them, but I am one to make a list of things that I will “try to do.” Not so much because it’s a new year, but just because. This is a long one, so I have split it into two posts.
This is Part II, and written for me more than anything else, so feel no need to read it, but this is the sort of stuff that goes through my mind as I run staring at a blank wall in front of me.
– Management
NOTE: Posting has been lagging lately due to the fact that most of my time spent “doing stuff” has been done indoors. There is no real creative joy in posting daily updates about crap three-mile runs on the treadmill. Hopefully I get outside soon. Crap or not, after a week of running/lumbering nearly 20 miles to nowhere I had time to think about the direction that I want to take my life. I’m not one for New Year’s Resolutions, or at least not very good at keeping them, but I am one to make a list of things that I will “try to do.” Not so much because it’s a new year, but just because. This is a long one, so I have split it into two posts.
This is Part I, and written for me more than anything else, so feel no need to read it, but this is the sort of stuff that goes through my mind as I run staring at a blank wall in front of me.
– Management
Since the New Year’s Day ride on Sunday the weather has not cooperated for outdoor ride fun. Monday was a day of getting stuff done and sort of recovering from “doing stuff” for six days in a row. Tuesday brought a day of rain, freezing rain, wind and 38˚ (no thank you, I’ll workout inside), Then on Wednesday we got the flip side of that– 40+ MPH winds, blowing snow (that seemed to be falling upwards rather than down), and 18˚ temps. Again, no thank you. However don’t be fooled by the pic of Jake (The Dog) hunkered down in his blanket, I’ve actually done stuff.
Part I (On The Couch Whilst Sitting In a Recliner)
New Year’s Eve had some promise; Wifey and I had the house to ourselves, good food to eat, and a fridge full of good beer. Sadly by 9:00 PM all that promise turned into Wifey pissed at me because of my opinion on how I can’t see any good that could possibly come from 2017 (I still stand by that, the world’s f*cked), and debating my talents (her words) and lack there of (my words) as I head into another year without a paycheck.
This holiday week I have immersed myself in sloth of varying degrees, mostly saved for the tail end of the day in front of the fireplace. During the day I’ve been eating proper and being as active as possible so as to make amends for my evening vices. Those activities have mostly been confined to 3.5 mile runs/lumbers on the treadmill, but yesterday I got an itchy bung to be outside. So I aired up the Fatterson, dawned multiple layers of winter clothing, and headed out to experience The Joy of Snirt (thankfully void of hairy hippies getting their freak on).
