Get Off My Trail
After running out of time and ending up on Zwift yesterday I committed to setting aside the time to ride Providence today. The breath of Fall in the air contrasted with the hot sweat dripping from my helmet. The air was clear, the Ripmo was aggressive, my legs were weak. That last bit sucked and was totally my fault but my first loop had some
This morning the rooftops were covered with a think layer of frozen water – a sign that we were visited by the first frost of the season. Autumn bike rides are filled with color and confusion. The heat of the sun beats down and as long as you are at a stand still it could be summer. Get on a bike and the rush of
Continue readingThe bite of the morning air after the first frost
Where there is cow pucky there are cows. It took the Ripmo and I three laps dodging cow pies but the giant critters finally showed their faces. Most of it was dry and we escaped the truly nasty experience of coming home covered in manure based compost. At one point, in an attempt to clear the sweat from my face I instead poked myself in
Shorter days and cooler mornings means the forests are slowly painting the mountains with the colors of Fall. The Bianchi and I set out to indulge in the changes just getting started in Logan Canyon. The Bianchi is light and fast and unforgiving and I didn’t relish the pounding I take on the descent. However, for these views and sights I can endure 15 minutes
I woke up to my legs whining about how they hurt and needed a day off so at the last minute I threw together all my bike gear. With the Ripmo in the truck I dropped my son off at school and headed to Green Canyon for a recovery ride. Turns out my legs lie. They spun the cranks just fine all the way up.
Morning meetings left me on the trainer but a nagging feeling wouldn’t let that suffice. As the work day drew to a close I told myself it was too late and that my legs were too burned up. Luckily, I came to my senses and before the sun gave up the day I grabbed Devin and he on his Ripley and I on my Ripmo
The organic perfume of a thirsty forest drenched by summer thunderstorms through the night filled my nose. In the high desert this is a rare scent. I drank deeply from the clear mountain air. The Ripmo clung to the moist dirt and in turn the dirt clung to the Ripmo. The wet rock provided precious little grip to the rear end and we’d frequently spin
As the Western United States burns to the ground and smoke fills the sky with an apocalyptic orange I impatiently wait for the mornings when the mountains are visible from my home. This morning was just such a moment. The Ripmo, weary of sitting in the garage tore through the ruble and moon dust. Like a pair of newly escaped convicts we crashed through Providence
Dig deep they say. Push harder they say. Ever have a day when no matter what your brain says your legs act like your teenager when you ask them to wash the dishes? No amount of coaxing or pushing could get my legs to go any harder or faster this morning. I think my body doth protest against the continuing riding on the trainer. The
A long road trip, a weekend in Las Vegas, a Labor Day weekend junk food binge and late nights all make great preparation for intervals on Makuri Island. Sad that the air up here in the mountains is worse than the air in Las Vegas. The Ride – Zwift