Patience.
Dave Henke posted a picture on FaceSpace of a stretch of pavement around the airport, bordered on both side by snow, with puddles of run-off being it's most common feature. There was an arrow pointing to a dry patch of asphalt. His 'cross bike was in the picture, indicating it was drop-bar possible.
Not me. I'm going to wait a couple weeks before I venture out. Just looking at the post made my collarbone ache. With my luck and advanced falling down skills, I'd hit an icy patch or pile of sand and ruin the whole riding season. As much as the trainer is starting to inspire thoughts of loathing, I'll get far more out of the time than I would weaving my way around frigid puddles at the speed of 'meh'.
I can wait. I'll do my trainer rides and Sunday morning visits to the Dome. Cold air has been doing a number on my sinuses and lungs the last few years, and there's a low-lying brown cloud of dust covering the local roads as the snow and ice recedes. I'll let it fade a bit more before I subject my fragile health to the more variable world outside.
It won't be long, and I can wait. Looking at the results some local triathletes are getting in Hawaii, I'm fairly sure a handful of cold, soggy rides aren't going to make much of a difference. I'm going to get crushed either way. Might as well be warm and dry for a little longer. Yeah, I did have to turn in my Flahute card, but a couple wrecks and an aging body has taught me the value of good days. I no longer have to suffer through miserable rides to know the difference.
That said, I'll still be out there when a lot of people stay home. My bikes will still be encrusted with all sorts of rain-driven debris for most of the year. At least one bike will be shod with durable tires and full fenders all summer long. My multiple rain jackets will all get used in turn, depending on conditions. I'll still get out there, just not quite yet.
It's still March. March is about spring skiing and marveling like cavemen at that new yellow circle in the sky. Where did all that light come from? Why does my entire neighborhood smell like dog poop? It's easy to jump the gun when the snow piles start looking like modern art as the sun has its way with them. Spring is the season of anticipation, of the irresistible urge to get something done.
I can wait. There's time. Then again, when the Moots shows up, all bets are off.
Not me. I'm going to wait a couple weeks before I venture out. Just looking at the post made my collarbone ache. With my luck and advanced falling down skills, I'd hit an icy patch or pile of sand and ruin the whole riding season. As much as the trainer is starting to inspire thoughts of loathing, I'll get far more out of the time than I would weaving my way around frigid puddles at the speed of 'meh'.
I can wait. I'll do my trainer rides and Sunday morning visits to the Dome. Cold air has been doing a number on my sinuses and lungs the last few years, and there's a low-lying brown cloud of dust covering the local roads as the snow and ice recedes. I'll let it fade a bit more before I subject my fragile health to the more variable world outside.
It won't be long, and I can wait. Looking at the results some local triathletes are getting in Hawaii, I'm fairly sure a handful of cold, soggy rides aren't going to make much of a difference. I'm going to get crushed either way. Might as well be warm and dry for a little longer. Yeah, I did have to turn in my Flahute card, but a couple wrecks and an aging body has taught me the value of good days. I no longer have to suffer through miserable rides to know the difference.
That said, I'll still be out there when a lot of people stay home. My bikes will still be encrusted with all sorts of rain-driven debris for most of the year. At least one bike will be shod with durable tires and full fenders all summer long. My multiple rain jackets will all get used in turn, depending on conditions. I'll still get out there, just not quite yet.
It's still March. March is about spring skiing and marveling like cavemen at that new yellow circle in the sky. Where did all that light come from? Why does my entire neighborhood smell like dog poop? It's easy to jump the gun when the snow piles start looking like modern art as the sun has its way with them. Spring is the season of anticipation, of the irresistible urge to get something done.
I can wait. There's time. Then again, when the Moots shows up, all bets are off.
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