Monday’s 45 mile ride was one of the best rides I’ve had in 2017. Everything just fell into place; warm, but not too warm, low wind, good legs, and a great attitude. Tuesday’s ride… not so much.
On weather predicting paper the day looked much like the day before, except now featuring a breeze blowing up to 15 MPH from the south/east. Not to be deterred by a mere 15 MPH, I set off. And for 12 miles or so I didn’t feel too bad. I knew 45 miles wasn’t going to happen due to my slack, and having other stuff to do, but I was confident for 30. Then after about 13 miles I turned right into the headwind and blah, done.
The birds seemed to mock me, the high in the sky sun ruined every pic, and my legs revolted as the steady wind slowed me to a mere 10 MPH and blew my pork grease laden sweat back into my face. I’ve been out in worse wind than this, but my attitude was having none of it today. I could not be the same cyclist who (pretty) easily rode 45 miles the day before! Letting off the gas on the pedals had me coming to a stop within feet, coasting was not an option. Pedal or become hog feed.
The only bright spots in entire ride was successfully dealing with two separate dirt road dogs. The first one is was an unleashed, and unattended, German Shepard that has chased, snapped, scratched, and pawed at me on every previous encounter. This time I got off the bike and walked a few feet, talking to him to show him that I was indeed a human and not some spaz from outer space. I learned this trick in an article in Adventure Journal . 1 The second success was riding past a dog on Denver Road that I have avoided for years, given that it sent me to the emergency room with a bite back in 2012 (that f*cker!). I guess it has mellowed with age (or become deaf), because despite it being out in the yard alone, it didn’t even lift its head. Or maybe I was going so slow that I didn’t make any noise?
Not sure if it had anything to do with how crap I felt on the bike, but as the day went on my voice started to go, my nose was running, my eyes were burning, and my throat was an itchy mess. I’ve never had seasonal allergies in my days back in Pennsylvania, but I guess there must me something different here in the mitten state that spawns them, possibly the proliferation of semen trees in the neighborhood that have the cul-de-sac smelling like the set of a porno. Of course given the wind here it might be the pollen of a tree species in Wyoming that rides the wind for hundreds of miles until it finds the openings of my pointed schnoz.
Before I left for the ride I contemplated not riding at all. But with thunderstorms predicted for later this week, and having only lost a half pound in the past two weeks, I figured I’d better get out while I could to burn some calories. So I guess I’ll just happy I did something outside rather than in the basement, and be content with a crap 26.5 mile ride.