Off the Gravel Road

I’m having an identity crisis or something.

Winter has always been my favorite time of the year.  I love the colder temperatures, relish the rare snowfall, love the Christmas season, love the early sunsets… I pretty much love everything about the winter.

Having become addicted to cycling right at the outbreak of winter has thrown my whole system into a spin.  I still love the winter.  Walking outside and feeling the bite of air that is 20 degrees or lower brings a smile to my face.  Still, there are incongruities.

First off, the fact that the sun is setting so early throws everything into a tailspin for me.  I don’t mind riding in the dark, but I’m hardly equipped for it.  I’m still building my arsenal of gear and night-riding gear isn’t even on the list yet.  I can’t even ride the little circuit I found close to my home right now because the Christmas shopping season is in full-feeding-frenzy mode and I live pretty much smack in the middle of the shopping hub for the city.  Being out right now on a bicycle would be suicidal with all the soccer moms and road-raging dads all yapping and texting away on their cell phones and paying no mind whatsoever to the task at hand… which is controlling their gas-sucking SUV enough to not kill the bikers and pedestrians who are out doing their own thing.

So at present, I am limited to just weekend riding… and that is frustrating the hell out of me.  I’m feeling antsy and anxious and all I want to do is jump on the bike in defiance to the insanity going on around me.

I expect I would live for about 30 seconds if I did that.

And so, I’m dealing as best I can.

Last night, I had the television on while working out on the bow flex and I saw 2 different commercials that featured cyclists.  The first was for an energy drink and featured some guy riding a mountain bike on some single track.  The second was for Rhapsody.  Although I consider myself a mountain biker and don’t even own a street bike yet, I have to admit that I liked the Rhapsody commercial a lot more and it really got me itching to go for a ride.

It showed a guy looking out a window in his house at what looked to be a semi-gloomy day.  He smiled and said something along the lines of “This reminds me of…” and he named a band and a song.  Next, he walked to his garage and took down his bike.  For the rest of the commercial, he is riding through town while listening to that song.  He ends up on a pier by the ocean as the song ends.

I don’t know.  I just found the whole thing very cool and I started grinning like an idiot that there were 2 commercials back-to-back featuring cyclists instead of another bullshit cell phone commercial.

Snort.

This weekend, while great in many ways, is kind of hard to describe without using the word “cluster.”

I woke up Saturday morning early and stumbled through the house to flip on the television.  I could already tell that it was cold as crap outside, but I wanted to see just what I had in store.  I got to the weather and saw that it was below 0 at that point in time, but the temperature was supposed to rise rapidly through the day and reach temperatures in the 60’s.

While I might not mind the cold as much as some, I’m not completely crazy.  If given the choice between freezing my butt off or delaying for a few hours to ride in comfort, I’m all about late starts.

I ate some breakfast and ran a couple of errands.  When I got home from the last of my errands, I could tell it had already warmed up considerably so I ran upstairs and started getting dressed.  I loaded up and drove out to the trails.

I screwed up though.  There was a wind blowing… not hard, but blowing… so I was afraid it might feel colder than it was especially once I started sweating.  So, I wore a long-sleeve jersey.

Big mistake.

I was miserable almost from the beginning… burning up and feeling like I was suffocating.  Still, all in all, I felt pretty good.  My legs weren’t cooperating and were giving up nearly zero power, but I wasn’t feeling tired at all.

Still, by the time I finished my first lap, it was all I could do to turn the cranks.  Rather than making a bad situation worse, I decided to call it a day.

I woke up yesterday a bit later.  Again, the morning was chilly, but the forecast called for a warmer day.

When the time came, I started getting ready… making sure to ignore the long-sleeved jerseys.  I decided to try on my Fat Cyclist jersey.

There was some good news.

When I put it on, the Fat Cyclist words were less of a declaration of support than they were an announcement of my present bodily configuration.

Somewhat disheartened, I took the jersey off and reached for one that has a somewhat more baggy look to it.  Ego again mollified, I set out.

I felt great.  Maybe it was spurred on by the earlier humiliation, but I hit the trails hard and with a vengeance.  My power felt good, my breathing remained steady, and my speed and control were both up.

The first lap felt like I was flying the whole time.  When I reached the starting point again, I didn’t even hesitate before starting a second lap… and the second lap was feeling even better.  I was grinning like a psycho and reveling in what a great ride I was having…

When I heard a *whoosh* and 2 blurs blasted by on my left.  Two other riders blazed by me like I was standing beside my bike on the side of the trail.  As they streaked away into the distance, one of them looked over his shoulder, smiled and waved.

I laid into my pedals and grit my teeth in an attempt to match speeds just to see how fast those two were going, but I reached the limit I was currently capable of doing and they were still pulling away from me.

I got angry at first… cursing myself for being slow and berating myself for being out of shape, but before long, I was laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all.  The worst thing on the planet that I can do at this point in time is compare myself to people who have been riding for years.  I know it in my head… and even in my heart.  My ego, on the other hand, is one bruised S.O.B.

This morning I woke up with a pain in my guts.  I don’t even know how to describe where it is.  It is on the right side of my body and feels like it is just behind and slightly lower than my right shoulder blade.  When, where, how and why it hurts is just as odd.  It hurts when I take a deep breath, but not when I breath normally.  It hurts when I bend over my desk, but not when I sit back in my chair.  It hurts when I stretch, but not when I relax my arms.  Coughing, sneezing, clearing my throat are all activities that I don’t recommend and they are nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I don’t know if I strained something or what, but it is annoying as hell and is driving me absolutely crazy.

I probably did something silly to myself in that ill-advised moment of competitiveness when I tried to catch the two guys who blazed by me yesterday.

Today is supposed to be another warm day… if a bit windy.  Temperatures are scheduled to drop again over night.  That means that I have to try to get home quickly this afternoon so I can go for a ride before the sun goes down.

I’ve been asked a couple of times recently why I don’t ever post pictures like nearly every other bike blogger does.  There are a couple of answers to that.  First, pretty much all of the people who have asked me that are locals who ride the same trails as me and know full well what they all look like.  Not that that necessarily matters since two different people can be in the same place but see two totally different things.  Still, I expect when you live in the Texas panhandle, once you have seen one dirt trail cut through scrub brush, you have seen them all.

More to the point, however, is the fact that I don’t have a camera.  Well, I don’t have a camera that I can carry.  I have a nice camera, but it is one of those larger ones with the telescoping lens.  I can’t exactly fit that camera in my pocket.  I’m hoping to buy a new one soon(ish) so, once I do, I’ll start posting some pics.

I would love to have one before Christmas (although I’m not holding my breath).  For a few days over my Christmas trip back home, I’ll be riding here.  I would love to get some pictures while I’m there.

This past year has been a mixture of disappointments and pleasant surprises.  As the end of the year approaches, I find that for the first time in a really long time, I am actually looking forward to the next year to see where it goes.

On a personal level, 2009 was very disappointing.  My job, while very busy and very active, fell into a very dull routine of predictability.  I kept trying to remind myself to be thankful that I had a job when so many people don’t, but I was bored out of my mind and I have never been one to suffer boredom very well.  All in all, I found myself extremely frustrated on every level which contributed to fueling my bad habits of eating poorly and smoking like a chimney.

I had reached a low point and was looking to sell off a bunch of my belongings.  The desire to get rid of stuff came from two areas… a need to generate some money and a desire to get rid of the familiar and try to find a fresh start… as if material surroundings could really cure the general malaise that my life had fallen into.

It was that direction, however, that brought about the change.

It was roughly 10 years ago when I bought my bike.  I was looking for some new physical hobby to undertake.  I was tired of swimming, I didn’t care much for running any longer, and going to the gym had become a routine that I absolutely hated.  I had also given up martial arts some time before due to injuries that didn’t seem to want to heal and a martial arts school that I found questionable in their practices.

The bike was an impulse buy.  I was thinking about it, I went to check some bikes out with no intention of buying, and ended up walking out the door with one.

I rode it a few times, but my rides were few and far between and I never found the enjoyment on the bike that I thought I would.  Mostly, it sat neglected in the corner collecting dust.

When I made the decision to start selling things off, the bike went to the top of the list.  I knew someone who was into biking, so I figured it would be an easy item to move.  All I had to do was ask him to spread the word.

And his stubbornness changed my life.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey.  Do you know anyone who is looking for a new bike?
Him: Maybe.  You have one to sell.
Me: Yeah.
Him: What is it?
Me: It’s a mountain bike I bought years ago.
Him: Don’t ride any longer?
Me: I just never got into it.
Him: Did you do any trail riding?
Me: No.  I just rode it on the street.
Him (shaking his head): You aren’t selling it.
Me (confused): Um, actually, I am.
Him: No.  You can’t sell it until you really ride it.
Me: I don’t know what you mean.
Him: You have to at least try trail riding before you can say you didn’t get into it.
Me: Okay.  But, I don’t even know where to go.
Him: Take your bike to this shop (he named a shop nearby).  Have them give it a once-over to make sure it is sound and ask them to prep the tires of trail riding with either Stan’s or slime tubes.  Once that is done, I’ll take you out.  If you still want to sell after that, I’ll reimburse you for the work the bike shop did.

And the rest is history.

My friends back home, most of who are miserable in their day-to-day lives, simply cannot understand the turnaround.  They can’t understand how simply finding something that I love this much has made such a difference in how I approach life.  They keep asking me what is really going on and can’t seem to wrap their minds around the fact that it is what I say… that my love of riding has completely changed my outlook on life.

As I look forward to 2010, I find myself compiling a list of things that I want to accomplish on the bike in the coming year.  How realistic any of these goals are, I have no idea.  At some point in the coming days, I’m going to put that list on paper (and maybe post it here) and then put it away.  At the end of 2010, it should be interesting to pull that list out and see what all, if anything, I managed to accomplish.

That is a question that has been asked of me many times in my life and I never seem to have an answer.  At times, it has been a joke among friends and family members.  At other times, it has been fairly serious.  Most of the time, it is a simple inconvenient reality that annoys me to no end.
 
The fact that I am so accident prone has produced some interesting events and results in my life.  For instance, in a pinch, I can stitch myself up.  I don’t like it and it isn’t always pretty, but I’ve done it a number of times much to the considerable irritation of my doctor.
 
There was a moment last night where I heard that question echoing around in my head for hours.  I was at home making dinner while I had Serenity running on the DVD player.  I could have paused the movie or just let it run.  I’ve seen it enough times that I know what is happening even if my eyes aren’t on the television. 

But no.
 
If there is one thing I am notorious about, it is that I rarely unload the dishwasher once the dishes are clean.  I opened the cabinet looking for my big salad bowl and didn’t see it there, so I knew it was in the dishwasher.  I opened the door and reached in with my eyes still on the television…
 
Which is why I didn’t see the butchers knife.
 
As I stood over the sink squeezing the end of my “you drive like crap” finger together under the water and marveling at the volume of blood running into the sink, I heard all of the questions and doubts expressed by my fantastically unsupportive family running through my head.  Those questions have come up a lot lately as each of them have found out about my new passion for cycling and the type of cycling I am doing.  None of them think it is a good idea and all of them are convinced that each time I go out, it will be my last time as I’ll crash and die lost and alone on some remote trail.
 
And they wonder why I don’t call or talk to them more often.  But I do have to admit that they have planted enough doubts in my head over the years that in moments like last night, I found myself staring across the room at my bike and wondering if they might not be right on some level.  I do have some years on me and history isn’t exactly on my side for coming out unscathed and in tact from any ride.
 
On the flip side, my mind quickly rewound over the near 39 years of my life and I searched my memory for one single moment of pure joy found in the eyes of my parents or siblings… or myself for that matter.  I tried to remember one single moment that any of them felt the undiluted pleasure and exhilaration that I feel every single time I climb onto a bike and set out on a single track somewhere.
 
I came up empty.
 
How can someone who has never felt that level of happiness ever expect to understand why I am doing it?
 
Although I am not new to the world of blogging, I am still new to the world of cycling.  I remember when I first started my other blog, every time I discovered some other site that I thought was simply incredible and mentioned it to someone, they would respond with, “Oh yeah.  That site is great.  I’ve been reading it for years.”  The same thing has happened this time around.  I’m the new kid on the block trying to find a voice and not sound like a completely ignorant newbie in a world already well-established by people who actually know what they are talking about.  Every time I find a site that is new to me that I find particularly interesting, I am always amazed at the number of people who say to me, “Oh yeah.  I’ve been reading that site for years.”
 
The last few days, I’ve been reading through the archives of Up in Alaska.  I have to say that Jill has to be one of the bravest people I have never met.  Every time I read about another one of her adventures, I’m left shaking my head and wondering if I would have the courage to do something like that.
 
And last night, while I was doing a custom patch job on my finger (I was out of band aids… which is weird.  I always keep first aid supplies in stock because I go through them like most people go through their favorite snack foods), I couldn’t help but think about all the things that could go wrong for me on an ultra-ride like the Great Divide or Brek… or even a trip to Moab or Fruita.
 
I found it a little funny as I was cutting strips from a medical gauze pad and taping it to my finger with duct tape (well, I found that whole process funny too… that I was proving once again that duct tape is truly the most important substance on the planet) that the thoughts of completely peppering myself into little bitty pieces still didn’t detract in any way from my desire to do some of these things.
 
I just need to remember to stock up on supplies first.
 
And make sure that I have plenty of duct tape on hand.

If you are a cyclist, you know exactly who is being referred to when someone says, “Fatty.”

Unless you live in a cave.

This week has been truly impressive.  If you don’t keep up with his website daily (and shame on you if you don’t), Fatty posted a mock letter late last week that was the “cover letter to his resume” to join Team RadioShack.  The letter was a fun read.

Apparently, Johan Bruyneel (the manager of Team RadioShack) saw the letter and responded in kind with a letter on his own site.  What resulted was a contest.

The initial contest sounded psycho enough… could Fatty raise $10,000 for LiveStrong and another $10,000 for World Bicycle Relief Fund in 1 week?

Fatty offered up prizes for donations (as he does), but it still sounded like a crazy goal for only one week.

In the course of only a few hours, the totals for both charities had blazed past the $10,000 mark.  So an additional challenge was set… $25,000 for both.  It sounded insurmountable… impossible…

And it was shattered within hours.

Finally, Trek Travel threw down the ultimate gauntlet: raise $50,000 for both charities within the original week and they would throw in a prize for a paid trip to witness the finale of the 2010 Tour de France.

Who could raise $100,000 in a week?

Well, Fatty can… in roughly 48 hours.

I was telling some friends about the contest.  Some are cyclists while others are not.  A few in the mix are very casual cyclists who do it from time to time but are in that “What’s the big deal” phase.

The non-cyclists and casual cyclists all had the same reaction.  They shrugged their shoulders, sniffed a little, and said, “Why is that such a big deal?  I’m sure if you had the same prizes to offer, you could have done the same.”

The cyclists among my friends all know better… as do I.  Sure, the prizes were a partial motivator, but I think the way the cycling community feels about the man behind the “Fatty” moniker is the real story.

In semi-related news, my Fat Cyclist jersey arrived in the mail yesterday.  I have never been so excited to receive an article of clothing in my life.  By the time I ordered, the version of the jersey with the “Fight Like Susan” logo was all sold out in my size so I got the other one.  If there is another run of the other jersey, you can bet I’ll be ordering one.

And I’ll wear both with pride… and I can’t wait to wear one at the LiveStrong Challenge ride in Austin in 2010.

On a side note, there really can’t be enough said about the generosity of all the people who donated the prizes for the contest, Johan Buryneel for dreaming it up, Elden (Fatty) for attacking it with the same gusto he always does, and all of those who donated money for 2 great causes.

I honestly have no freaking clue what it was that I saw, but I saw something.
 
My weekend rides were a mixture of confusion.  I hit the trails Saturday morning and immediately started thinking about turning back.  The air temperature was about 22 degrees F with a wind chill of about 6.  Keep in mind that I still don’t really have any cold weather gear.  I’m working on it, but right now… not so much.  I had a short-sleeved underarmour shirt under a long-sleeved bike jersey.  I had my cold-weather gloves (my only piece of cold-weather gear) on… and shorts. 
 
Anyway, the very first thing I noticed when I hit the trails was that my legs felt dead.  The second thing I noticed is that someone had apparently ridden when the trails were muddy and ripped them to shreds.  Almost immediately I started thinking about turning around, loading the bike back up and heading home, but it is such a pain in the ass to get out there that I wasn’t about to throw in the towel just yet.
 
The ride was somewhere in the area of mediocre.  I never did get any feeling of strength in my legs, but at the same time, they never quit on me.  I couldn’t seem to push anything even resembling speed out of them, but they were climbing with minimal protest and they didn’t seem to be getting tired.
 
All in all, I was feeling pretty good so when I reached a crossroads that is usually where I decide how far I’m going to ride, I took the left turn to take the longer track.
 
Huge mistake.
 
That particular path has a lot more shade and covering… which means that not long after setting off on that path, the whole thing turned to mud.  I spent more time in the brush walking and carrying my bike than I did actually riding it until I climbed out of that area.
 
By the time I got back to the start of the trail, I was frozen.  I wanted to go for another lap, but I was nearly out of water, my teeth wouldn’t quit chattering, I had sweat frozen to my face, and my arms were starting to shake.  I did the only thing I could… I loaded the bike up and returned home.
 
Sunday was a completely different story.  My legs felt strong right from the start.  I had a few moments in there where they gave me some pain on a climb, but for the most part, I felt like I could ride forever.
 
I was heading up a climb near the start of the trail when I heard something not too far off.  I wasn’t exactly in a position to stop, so I finished the climb and made the turn at the top.  Standing directly in front of me was… something.
 
I figure there are several choices of what it could have been.  First, and most likely given the region I’m in, is that it was an unusually large coyote.  Second, it could have been an unusually large wolf.  Wolves are not common around here, but they do exist.  Third, it could have been some freak of nature mutant German Sheppard.  Finally, it could have been Big Foot scrambling around on all fours on a visit to the Texas Panhandle.
 
All I know is that it was huge and it was pissed off that I was there.  Whatever this thing was, it stood slightly taller than a Great Dane.  The paw print it left in the dirt was bigger than my hand… and keep in mind that I am 6’2.  My hands aren’t tiny.
 
I stopped my bike and put my foot down.  Dogzilla and I stared at each other for a few seconds… then a few seconds more.  I heard a rumbling forming in its chest, so I slowly eased my bike back a few inches trying to remember that there was a drop behind me.  Whatever it was bared its fangs and started barking.  It started to move towards me and I did the only thing that came to mind… I sprayed it with my water bottle.
 
Apparently that was enough.  It stopped in its advance, looked at me, and turned around.  I flipped my bike around and went down the hill I had just climbed.  When I looked over my shoulder, I could see Dogzilla watching me and following from a distance.  When I got close to the road, I climbed off my bike and carried it through the brush to the road.  Once I was off the trail, mutant puppy turned around and ran off.
 
Part of me wished I had a camera with me to snap a photo of it, but the realist inside is laughing and saying, “Yeah.  Like THAT was on your mind.”

I haven’t had a whole lot to write about lately.  I’ve haven’t been on the bike since Saturday… and it is driving me crazy.
 
Saturday’s ride was mediocre.  My legs felt great and I felt like I could have ridden forever, but my lungs were betraying me.  They started protesting the cold air almost from the beginning.  By the time I reached the end of the first lap, my lungs had finally started to cooperate, but my right hand started cramping up seriously bad.  I couldn’t even squeeze the break or shift gears.  Rather than getting myself into trouble, I decided to go ahead and stop.
 
I had planned to go back on Sunday, but it rained all day Sunday.  The people who unofficially oversee the trails ask people to not ride them when they are muddy so they don’t get rutted up, so I took the day off.  On Monday, it rained in the morning, snowed in the afternoon, and sleeted in the evening, so getting out and riding through the neighborhood wasn’t going to happen… especially since I live smack in the middle of the shopping mecca of the city and holiday shoppers are in full feeding frenzy mode.  The last 2 days, the roads have been icy so I haven’t ridden.  There is more snow in the forecast for tonight and more for tomorrow.  It is my hope that we’ll get a decent base layer of snow that will still be around on Saturday so I can go ride the trails in the snow this weekend.  If it is starting to melt, I probably won’t go because I’ll end up tearing up the track.
 
My time hasn’t gone completely to waste though.  I’ve been going to the gym and working out.  I’ve also started thinking seriously about participating in the Livestrong Challenge in Austin for 2010.  This isn’t a ‘no brainer’ for me when it comes to making a decision.  I’ll be involved one way or the other.  I’m just trying to decide if I am going to try to ride in it.  It is a little intimidating for me to think about.
 
Why?
 
First off, I haven’t ever ridden a bike race of any kind.  I’m not sure that this is technically a bike race and isn’t more of a big group ride, but it is close enough.  Second, I don’t own a road bike yet.  If push came to shove, I would ride it on my mountain bike, but I expect I’ll have a road bike well before then (the Austin ride isn’t until next October).  Third, even the shortest ride is further than I have ridden to date.  Granted, I have nearly a year to train and get ready, but from my chair this very second, it is an intimidating thought.  Plus, I’m the type of person that if I’m going to do something out of my comfort zone, I’m going to do something WAY out of my comfort zone… which means signing up for the 90-mile ride.
 
I’m not actually worried about getting a bike.  I’m not even that concerned with getting ready to be able to do a 90-mile ride by next October.  More than anything, I’m more concerned with the humidity difference between where I live and Austin.  I’ve been to Austin many times and I always have a tough time breathing there due to the heaviness of the air.
 
One way or the other, I’m going to do it.  It may not be pretty, graceful, or even viewable in mixed company, but I’m going to do it.  I’ll be signing up as a part of Team Fatty for Austin.  I’ve already ordered my Team Fatty jersey.  Now I just need to get signed up with Team Fatty Austin and start fund raising.
 
Oh, and getting my ass back on the bike.  Need to do that too.

I had kind of hoped that I was done with buying supplies for the moment.  There are still plenty of things that I need to buy for cycling, but I was hoping I had enough for now and that I could start saving up for a new bike.
 
Well, I have at least one more thing to buy now.
 
I mentioned once before that I am extremely warm natured.  It actually goes a bit beyond that.  I am not lying or exaggerating when I say that the only time in the last 2 years that I have turned on the heater in my apartment is when my water pipes froze up and I needed to try to thaw them out.  I rarely get cold or am even aware that it is cold.
 
Unfortunately, my apparent obliviousness to the elements doesn’t exactly translate across the spectrum.
 
When I went to bed Wednesday night, I thought to myself, “I have absolutely nothing to do tomorrow other than go ride the trails.  Since there is nothing for me to interfere with, I’m not going to worry about getting up early.  I’ll wake up when I wake up and I’ll go riding when I go riding.”
 
The bad thing is that my body has become completely acclimated to waking up early so I was awake at 6:30 anyway.
 
I oozed out of bed and got dressed.  I then looked in the mirror and nearly laughed myself hysterical.  I am in desperate need of a haircut and I woke up yesterday morning looking like Don King.

 
Once I got my act together, I gathered my gear and loaded up the truck.  On the drive out, I glanced at the thermostat.  17 degrees.
 
I didn’t really feel that cold while I was riding, but the longer I was out, the more I started to feel a very uncomfortable pain in my right thumb.  I cut the ride a little shorter than I wanted to, but I was getting really tired.  After 3 days of fighting a cold and not riding at all, my wind simply wasn’t there.  I still got in about 6 miles of hard riding, so I was fairly happy.
 
When I hefted the bike over into the back of my truck, my thumb started to hurt even worse.  When I got into the truck and fired up the heater, it literally felt like I had been stabbed in the thumb.
 
And that feeling hasn’t left yet.  Even as I type this, every time I depress the space bar, I feel a stab of pain.  Even when the stabs aren’t coming in, there is a dull throbbing to let me know that one of my digits is not a happy piggy.
 
So at some point this morning, I’m going to walk next door (yes, I work right next door to a bike shop.  Talk about employing an alcoholic at a bar!) and buy some warm weather gloves.  The weatherman has already said that the mornings are going to be damn cold this weekend, so a little preventative caution might be in order.  There is even talk of snow on Sunday.
 
I’m nervous for a friend today.  My co-worker and friend who introduced me to trail riding is expecting a call from his doctor at some point today. 
 
For some time, he has been having major pain in his lower back.  Some days he says the pain isn’t too bad.  Others he can’t even get out of bed without help from his wife.  Earlier in the week, he finally broke down and went to the doctor.
 
The pre-diagnosis is some form of degenerative bone disease in his back.  They ran some tests to make sure, but the doc said that if that is what it truly is, he will have to give up biking completely and for good.  He’s supposed to find out today if that is the prognosis or if it is something else.  He said that if he does have to give up biking, he’s going to go for at least a couple of “goodbye” rides.  One would be hitting the trails with me this weekend.  He said he also wants to make 1 last run to Moab, but a lot of that will depend on how advanced the condition is if that is indeed what he has.
 
I’m hoping that he’ll call and report that it is just a pinched nerve though.  I’ve only been riding for a few months and I don’t know how I would feel or respond if I was told that I couldn’t ride any longer.  He’s been riding for 15 years.  It is as much a part of him as his arms are.

There hasn’t been a whole lot to talk about the last few days which is why I haven’t posted anything.

My weekend rides were a mixed bag.  Friday night was great, but exhausting.  Coming off of another late night at work, I didn’t have much energy but I pushed it as hard as I could.  The end result wasn’t an overly long ride, but a rewarding one.

Saturday was a whole different story.  I still felt the lack of sleep and my body didn’t want to function physically.  From the second I pulled my bike out of the back of my truck and climbed on, I knew the ride was not going to go well.

And it didn’t.  Every turn of the pedals was a chore.  I felt like I had cement blocks attached to my ankles and I couldn’t catch my breath no matter how hard I tried.

Sunday felt like I was a different person.  I felt energized and comfortable and I thought I would be able to ride for hours.

Unfortunately, I forgot that there was a race Sunday morning.  I didn’t interrupt the race as it hadn’t started yet, but I was reminded of the race by nearly slamming head-first into someone who was pre-riding (the race they were having involved riding the trails in the opposite direction).  In the end, I was cutting it close and seeing more and more people out riding.  I knew I was about out of time anyway and didn’t want to hinder someone’s pre-race, so I left well before I was actually ready to.

Since Sunday, I haven’t ridden at all.  I’ve been trying to fight off a cold I feel tickling my sinuses and the back of my throat.  So far, I’m not sure who is winning… me or the cold.  It hasn’t bloomed yet, but the tickles also haven’t retreated.

Regardless, unless I wake up tomorrow with a full-blown case of the hacking cough and sinus infection, I’ll be hitting the trails in the morning.  We might possibly get out of here a bit early this afternoon (since most of the company is off today anyway), so if we do, I might go for a ride this afternoon too.

Happy Thanksgiving all.