Thank you, Cycling gods

Apparently, the cycling gods heard my plea and decided to raise the temperature a bit for me. The next week, of which I have off work, will be in the mid to upper 70s every day. And not a 40 degree low in sight. All hail so-cal! I fart in the general direction of all of you that have to ride in the snow! So for the next week, it'll be all road rides (no damn trainer), in just shorts and jerseys. Ha!

Speaking of shorts and jerseys, a big F-U to my club who decided to go an change colors on me. A-holes. See, I bought a new helmet last year and it matched the club colors for the last four years perfectly. Then they go and change. Since I just spent way-too-much on a bike, the mismatched helmet will have to stay. Hopefully I'll never put it to use anyhow. And now that I'm old and fat, hopefully the races will be less dangerous. I don't remember the masters crashing nearly as much as us (former) young guns used to. I guess when everyone has to go to work on Monday you take less chances.

Brrrrr!

I don't know how you damn east coaster's do it. Seriously. It was 42 degress when I left for each of my rides these past two mornings and I was bitching like a kangaroo with no pouch. So damn cold. My ears hurt, my nose hurt, my toes hurt, everything. It was nice by the end of the ride - near 60 - but still. I gotta move to a tropical destination with lots of hills. Hawaii sounds good. Do they have a good racing scene?

Real life crawled up my butt and died

As you can imagine, that makes one a little grumpy. Between a new job, a new house, and lack of sleep, I've probably not been the nicest person to be around. Couple that with a lack of time of the bike - my one release - and I've been a downright A-hole. Just ask my wife.

A new job drains you. Trying to make a good impression and do the right thing is never easy. Tougher still is trying to find out exactly what it is people want you to do. Still, a paycheck every two weeks is pretty nice. It'll help pay for the way-too-expensive bike I just conned the little lady into letting me buy.

And I'm moving. Have you moved before? I'll assume you have and that I don't need to tell you how much it SUCKS. Packing sucks. Moving the crap sucks. Unpacking sucks. And for some reason, everything needs to be washed before we pack ("We're not moving dirt!") and after we unpack ("It's been in those dirty boxes - disgusting!"). If it's gonna get dirty in the box, why did we wash it to begin with? I'm still trying to figure that one out, to no avail. I promise you this. I'm not moving again for years. Really this time.

What a craptastic weekend

Saturday - dropped.

Sunday - dropped.

Sunday night - drunk.

Well, that about covers it. Not a stellar weekend. The week off the bike and the stone legs from sitting six hours each way on a plane probably had something to do with it. More than anything else, though, it makes a great excuse.

Time to hit the trainer hard again this week, numb nuts and all. I don't know about where you live, but you'd think here in So Cal, you could buy a fan pretty much any time of the year. As you know, a fan is a must when riding the torture device known as a trainer. I don't have a fan. I need one. Nobody sells em in the winter. Not Target, Lowe's, Home Depot, Walmart, nobody. What the hell. So, I suffer, sweat, and bitch like a girl when riding it. So be it.

If you know where I can buy a fan this time of year, let me know!

Bad things come in threes

As in a three hour delay at the airport. On the way back from Philly (where it snowed on me, dammit) we were stuck on the airplane for three hours while the maintenance crew fixed a mechanical problem.

Okay. First off, don't tell me my plane has a mechanical problem and then take me 30,000 feet up in it. Not cool. Then, if it does have a problem, why wait until 200 of us are on board before fixing it? Why not fix it when I'm in the airport and can grab a beer and a bite to eat? And to top it off, if you do make me sit in the cramped airplane seat in the gate for three hours, don't make me pay for my snack! Bite me, Northwest.

When I got home, however, good things came in threes. Three Newcastle Brown Ales, specifically. Today after work should be my first day back on the bike... well trainer that is. I'm looking forward to actually getting some road miles in, but that will have to wait till the weekend. So, it'll be another grouping of three tonight - three hours on the trainer. Is that good or bad?

Philly

Bleh.

Five hours in the air, and no bike for the weekend. Even if I were bringing a bike, I sure as hell don't wanna ride where the high is 35 or 40 or whatever. I bitch when it's 50 in the early morning when I leave. Bleh.

Well, at least I'll get a good cheesesteak - or that's what I'm told. I figure I'll put on a few pounds between the fat food and beer. But that good 'ol torture machine, the CycleOps, will take it off in the evenings when I get back, I'm sure.

Ok, until I'm back,
Fatty Out