No Time to Blog.

Thursday I had better things to do than write a new post for Friday.

I got out on the road earlier than I had and did pretty much the same route I'd done for the previous days. I added a loop at the distant end, which was pretty much a continuation of the same theme. Now and again I passed small groups of riders, and the same twinge of envy ran through me. My first inclination was to do a quick u-turn and link up with them, but each time I would evaluate the group and decide to pass. None of them were what I would call "sporty", and my intrusion would likely disrupt the group cohesion. I'm not the fastest rider out there, but I've been "that guy" before, and it's not a role I prefer.

I continued on my way, until a suitably aggressive group charged by. A quick check of the sun's position told me I had time for some fun, so I did a quick u-turn and caught them just as the group dissolved and the majority of the riders dispersed into their various neighborhoods. Dejected, I resumed my previous course and had to be content with catching random riders on this particular route. I guess it's a popular one, because there were plenty of stragglers to pick off.

I arrived home, showered, and then hit the Bier Garten for meat in tube form and liters of good beer. I say liters, because I consumed multiple liters. I rarely have more than 16-20oz of beer, and then only once every two or three weeks. This may have been influenced by the waitress' "traditional" costume, which was likely designed by a 16 year old boy raised in a brothel. Turns out I might not be dead yet, although my interest turned to fatherly concern when I found out she was only 19. My additional consumption also could have been the relaxed atmosphere and my even-more-relaxed attitude. The more I drank, the more I wanted to stay planted in my chair. However, I knew I had to wake up at 3:00AM the next morning to make my flight and I still hadn't packed, so I said farewell to my favorite place in San Antonio (not a very high standard) and wobbled my way back to the room.

Disassembling and packing a bike while a little north of tipsy is an interesting experience, and one I wouldn't suggest to novices. I guess I did it well enough, because it looked and operated more or less as advertised when I put it back together, despite TSA's best efforts.

Once back home, I noticed the snow was almost gone. Pictures of chilly groups of riders on 'cross bikes started to populate my Facebook feed. The same impulse to chase that possessed me in San Antonio returned, but I returned to the trainer instead. I'll be out there in the next few days, but there's no need to rush into it on slick tires. 

If I still had a 'cross bike, my resolve wouldn't have been as strong. Then, as if on cue, Greg Matyas posted about a soon-to-be-released Fatback gravel grinder frame. It's as if the universe is stacked against those of us with poor impulse control. I'm currently developing a spreadsheet to determine which child to sell to fund this project, and it looks like it boils down to build kit and which one the wife is least likely to notice missing.

I'll let you know...

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