The other day during one of my winter dirt road ride rambles I rode by one of the many crop irrigators that have been left to freeze their spouts off in the blustery, wide open Michiganderburgh fields over the winter. I stopped for a moment –perhaps to piss or to stretch out my aging, crap lower back –snapped a pic and then got to thinking how seeing these giant, mechanical, water giving beasts out in the winter makes me sort of sad. It provokes the same feeling I get when I look out my door and see my grill, which I have once again neglected to cover with tarp, covered with several inches of snow and ice. It provokes a feeling of anxious waiting. Waiting for the harsh mid-Michiganderburgh winter to end. Waiting for the return of the momentum halting spring winds, shadeless sun and dry summer air filled with the scent of manure. Sadly there are quite a few more weeks of snow, ice and frigid temps ahead of us before that happens.
There are more miles to be ridden on packed snow and ice, more cussing to be done as I ride into brutal, face numbing head winds, more sweat dripped while on the stationary trainer and more time spent running on the torture device that many call a “treadmill.”
They say (I think) that waiting, anticipation and longing makes everything better in the end. They (whoever “they” are) can suck my sagging balls. I don’t hear too many folks from down south or out west bitching about how it sucks to ride dry trails in warm temps all year round. Seriously, when was the last time you heard someone bitch about getting too many warm weather miles in? Pfffft! Not, that everyone doesn’t have a day here and there that’s cold and miserable, but the difference is that here in Michiganderburgh it lasts for months, not days.
OK, ranting, raving and general miserableness done. I am a cyclist living in the middle of Michigan, I will do what it takes to stay in shape and to stay reasonably sane. I am not sure either will happen, but I have to at least attempt to do so while I endure and wait. Waiting sucks.
Later.