New Roads.
Over the Holiday weekend, we went camping. Usually that means a lot of sitting around the fire, eating, and smelling like smoke. This time was different.
After a week and a half off the bike, I got back on. I'd ride the six miles out from the campground to the Parks Highway and turn left or right. The first day I rode a little over 50 miles. The second day I rode a little over 55 miles. The third day I rode a little over 65 miles.
It was the best weather for riding I'd seen this year. Sure, it was a little windy at times (I was in the MatSu area) and I got hit by some raindrops, but for the most part it was glorious.
By glorious, I mean the weather. My fitness is nothing to write home about.
It was the first time I'd used my Garmin Edge 520. I've had it for four months or so, but when I realized the navigation was different than my older Garmin devices, I set it aside and moved onto other things. This weekend I picked it up and did the bare minimum to get it functional with the devices I had. Every day it would give me a new notification that I had set PRs in various categories. "You have no idea," I said to the screen. "You don't know me." I'll have to program all sorts of metrics into eventually, because it may believe I'm a 60 year old Asian man.
The first couple days were just grinds along the highway, but on the third I altered my course a bit and found some interesting terrain. Despite the holiday weekend, traffic was sparse on these roads, and I had to force myself to turn around before I found out where they went. Someday.
On my return trip, the wife passed me in the car and honked. She pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride. Apparently there was lightning and thunder in the area, and it was raining a bit back at the camp. I told her not to worry, because I was safe from lightning on my metal bike. Plus, it was only eight miles back to camp, and I really was having fun.
As it turned out, I missed all of the rain. I did get wet from the bottom up from the roads, but it really didn't amount to anything. 50 feet from my campsite on a gravel road, my rear tire went flat. I walked it in.
The next day, I woke up at 6:00 AM. Instead of fixing the flat, I racked up the bike, packed up camp, and took the dog on a hike for a couple hours. 170 miles was enough given my current condition. My legs would have tolerated it, but I figured it was better just to quit before I overdid it. I may regret it later after a string of cold, rainy rides, but as I said, 170 miles was enough.
If my budding career in mobile meth lab renovations doesn't pan out, I may have to revert to hoping for the pro cycling contract to fall in my lap, so I have to stay fresh.
After a week and a half off the bike, I got back on. I'd ride the six miles out from the campground to the Parks Highway and turn left or right. The first day I rode a little over 50 miles. The second day I rode a little over 55 miles. The third day I rode a little over 65 miles.
It was the best weather for riding I'd seen this year. Sure, it was a little windy at times (I was in the MatSu area) and I got hit by some raindrops, but for the most part it was glorious.
By glorious, I mean the weather. My fitness is nothing to write home about.
It was the first time I'd used my Garmin Edge 520. I've had it for four months or so, but when I realized the navigation was different than my older Garmin devices, I set it aside and moved onto other things. This weekend I picked it up and did the bare minimum to get it functional with the devices I had. Every day it would give me a new notification that I had set PRs in various categories. "You have no idea," I said to the screen. "You don't know me." I'll have to program all sorts of metrics into eventually, because it may believe I'm a 60 year old Asian man.
The first couple days were just grinds along the highway, but on the third I altered my course a bit and found some interesting terrain. Despite the holiday weekend, traffic was sparse on these roads, and I had to force myself to turn around before I found out where they went. Someday.
On my return trip, the wife passed me in the car and honked. She pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride. Apparently there was lightning and thunder in the area, and it was raining a bit back at the camp. I told her not to worry, because I was safe from lightning on my metal bike. Plus, it was only eight miles back to camp, and I really was having fun.
As it turned out, I missed all of the rain. I did get wet from the bottom up from the roads, but it really didn't amount to anything. 50 feet from my campsite on a gravel road, my rear tire went flat. I walked it in.
The next day, I woke up at 6:00 AM. Instead of fixing the flat, I racked up the bike, packed up camp, and took the dog on a hike for a couple hours. 170 miles was enough given my current condition. My legs would have tolerated it, but I figured it was better just to quit before I overdid it. I may regret it later after a string of cold, rainy rides, but as I said, 170 miles was enough.
If my budding career in mobile meth lab renovations doesn't pan out, I may have to revert to hoping for the pro cycling contract to fall in my lap, so I have to stay fresh.
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