Knowing full well that most of my Friday ride time window, would be taken up with the closing on our new crib, I made sure to sneak out for another quick spin on Thursday. It wasn’t the greatest of rides, and I was feeling sluggish from being a slug, but it got the job done.
Over the past year or so, I’ve gone from riding with a palm sized Canon s95 camera stuffed in my jersey pocket to using either the Fuji X-T10 or Fuji X100s in one of two different bags on my bike. The reasons are twofold:
The past four or five days have been spent dealing with one storm after another: rain, snow, gusting winds, sleet, cold temps, and a bout of the black dog like I haven’t dealt with in a while. Obviously the black dog part was the worst, but the end is in sight, and for that I am grateful.
This week is B-Man’s Spring Break. Sadly, it hasn’t been all that spring-like, nor are we “spring-breaking” anywhere due to fact we’re buying a house in fifteen days’ time and moving in eighteen. However all is not lost, because B has been enjoying sleeping in and goofing off, and he did go on a fun day trip with Wifey and some of his friends yesterday.
Everyone’s My favorite XCO racer–Jolanda Neff–has branched out onto the road this season. I’m no huge fan of road racing, but I’m glad to see Jolanda’s “Neffness” branching out onto the paved roads of the European women’s pro peloton.
Every so often, especially with the cobbled classics coming, I find myself getting sucked into perusing through vintage photos online from the early days of racing. The one you see here is of 29-year-old French cyclist Jules Deloffre at the 1914 Paris-Roubaix.
This one caught my eye for a variety of reasons. For one, Jules looks hella unhappy to have his photo taken. I know that in those days, there wasn’t a lot of smiling and giggling for the camera due to the exposure time, etc., but still, Jules looks as if he is trying to make sure the viewer makes no mistake about his nationality, or the level of asshole that he is. That, or he sensed dead legs and a 76th place finish later that day.
Saturday morning as I sat around drinking coffee and writing this digital fishwrap I finished my post by saying “time to air up the tires, charge the camera battery, and get out in the sunshine and calm winds while it lasts.” Well, the winds sure seemed calm here in town but when I got onto the open dirt roads north of town, the winds felt anything but calm. A stiff breeze came out of the west and cut right through my jacket and Craft windstopper base layer, keeping my nipples like two diamonds attached two fleshy beanbags full lard for nearly two-hours. Oh well, at least it was sunny.
During the week as I did several Better Than The Trainer Rides™ I had an eye on Saturday and the hope that it would bring warmer temperatures, dry dirt roads, and some extended miles on said dirt roads. As it turns out the temperatures weren’t going to get warm until late afternoon, and the dirt roads remained muddy messes. On top of that Wifey was going to be back in Pittsburgh for the weekend, which meant that I was solely in charge of the boy until she arrived home Sunday. Since I don’t like to stray too far away from home–in case my mad parenting skills would be need to be called into action–I headed back to the paved roads of the B.T.T.T.R™ yet again.
Despite having legs that felt as heavy has a two sacks of haggis, I got out for a ride on Thursday. Right now, I’m not so concerned with the length of the rides, just trying to get consistent time on the bike. So I headed out for yet another Better Than The Trainer Ride™, but this time ventured off of pavement for a bit and reintroduced some dirt, er I should say mud, to the ride.
Every year about this time I find myself posting something about the Strade Bianche road race in Italy’s Tuscany region. A race that has nearly 53 km worth of white dirt and gravel road sectors along its 176 km percorso. Think Paris-Roubaix; in Italy; with dirt sectors instead of cobbles.
