I've Had Better.
The bike had been sitting there, completely built and mounted on the trainer, for a few days.
I just couldn't do it.
The thought of another session of Zwift just wasn't something I was willing to stomach. I hauled 50 pounds of trainer all the way out here and decided that the last thing I wanted to do was another session in the virtual world.
Problem was, I'm in a sort of modified quarantine. My movement is limited to the very small base (about the size of a city block) and a couple of other places when performing official duties. I had squandered the first week of isolation on dog grief and eating junk food in front of the TV, but it was time to rejoin the world (or at least a mile or two of it).
It had been exactly one month since I'd last kitted up. The morning's rain had given way to an overcast gloom by the afternoon. Far removed from a routine, I fumbled through my preparations. I wish I could say I was enthusiastic or excited or some other positive word, but after a month of relative inactivity, I had grown moss. Eventually I made my way out the door.
A couple laps around the loop told me I hadn't forgotten evverything. The legs still went roundy-round. I hit a bump and the nose of my saddle dropped a bit. The tires were a bit low on air. My Garmin's screen was filled with data I really didn't care about. I returned to my room and fixed what was wrong, then started riding the loop again.
The wind off of Bristol Bay provided resistance in one direction and assistance in the other, but I wasn't looking to break any speed records. Going slow is still moving. It's not about training or performance or anything like that. Baby steps.
I rode for about an hour, then decided to call it a day. No reason to wear out the roads in my tiny kingdom in one ride. Plus, it wasn't a glorious return. I felt numb and unmotivated. Usually when I return to the bike after a break, I overdo it with enthusiasm. I've never been off the bike this long, so maybe that's it. Maybe a few more rides and everything will click into place nicely and I'll be me again. Being me, for all of its disadvantages, sure beats being 'meh'.
When I pulled up to the door, my foot stuck in the pedal. Unprepared, I went down. For the first time since I started using clipless pedals, I made one of the more embarrassing cycling faux pas. I don't think anyone saw, so it didn't happen. Perfect end to an imperfect ride. I had purchased the pedals on eBay a while ago, threw them in the box for this trip, and slapped them on the bike without adjusting them. They were cranked to the highest tension, so my casual flick of the heel was woefully inadequate. I didn't get a second chance before I was falling, scaping my heel and calf on a railroad tie as I flopped.
Serves you right, fatty. Now get out there and do it again.
I just couldn't do it.
The thought of another session of Zwift just wasn't something I was willing to stomach. I hauled 50 pounds of trainer all the way out here and decided that the last thing I wanted to do was another session in the virtual world.
Problem was, I'm in a sort of modified quarantine. My movement is limited to the very small base (about the size of a city block) and a couple of other places when performing official duties. I had squandered the first week of isolation on dog grief and eating junk food in front of the TV, but it was time to rejoin the world (or at least a mile or two of it).
It had been exactly one month since I'd last kitted up. The morning's rain had given way to an overcast gloom by the afternoon. Far removed from a routine, I fumbled through my preparations. I wish I could say I was enthusiastic or excited or some other positive word, but after a month of relative inactivity, I had grown moss. Eventually I made my way out the door.
A couple laps around the loop told me I hadn't forgotten evverything. The legs still went roundy-round. I hit a bump and the nose of my saddle dropped a bit. The tires were a bit low on air. My Garmin's screen was filled with data I really didn't care about. I returned to my room and fixed what was wrong, then started riding the loop again.
The wind off of Bristol Bay provided resistance in one direction and assistance in the other, but I wasn't looking to break any speed records. Going slow is still moving. It's not about training or performance or anything like that. Baby steps.
I rode for about an hour, then decided to call it a day. No reason to wear out the roads in my tiny kingdom in one ride. Plus, it wasn't a glorious return. I felt numb and unmotivated. Usually when I return to the bike after a break, I overdo it with enthusiasm. I've never been off the bike this long, so maybe that's it. Maybe a few more rides and everything will click into place nicely and I'll be me again. Being me, for all of its disadvantages, sure beats being 'meh'.
When I pulled up to the door, my foot stuck in the pedal. Unprepared, I went down. For the first time since I started using clipless pedals, I made one of the more embarrassing cycling faux pas. I don't think anyone saw, so it didn't happen. Perfect end to an imperfect ride. I had purchased the pedals on eBay a while ago, threw them in the box for this trip, and slapped them on the bike without adjusting them. They were cranked to the highest tension, so my casual flick of the heel was woefully inadequate. I didn't get a second chance before I was falling, scaping my heel and calf on a railroad tie as I flopped.
Serves you right, fatty. Now get out there and do it again.
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