I went on a long ride on Saturday, 12 miles of mostly single track in the Port Gamble Trail System. It has been amazing to see how much development they have done over the last few years. Not only am I riding many new trails, but the clearings are starting to turn back into woods so I get lost in there much more often than I used to. Don’t get me wrong, I can always figure out how to get back to my vehicle, it just takes longer than normal.
My biking partner on Saturday is in much better shape than I am, and apparently is much more graceful than I am. I say that is because I would have a hard time waiting for someone to catch up if I were the one constantly in the front.
When we finished the ride he asked me how far we went.
“How far did we go? 8 miles?”
I pulled out my phone to look at my trusty app (I still have not received a call from any riding app companies about sponsorships).
“Twelve, we went twelve miles.” Now I could have laughed at him for undershooting his estimate by fully a third of the distance. However the reality is that to him it probably felt like 8. To be honest, to me it felt more like 20 so I guess twelve is a good middle ground.
That brings me back to this morning, or rather I guess it should bring us up to last night. I came home after having pizza to realize that something had not settled well in my digestive system. At 40 years old I should remember that pizza never settles well in my system. My 12 year old can mainline the stuff and ask for more, but I end up saying things like “I bloated” or “I shouldn’t have eaten that”.
Now we can talk about this morning and the title of my blog. After the events that transpired last night to get rid of the stuff that didn’t settle well I woke up feeling like junk. I went to make my normal cup of coffee and I was resigning myself to taking a day off from riding and catching up on the news (again I am 41, this is what I do, I catch up on the news).
Then I had a cup of coffee.
After the coffee kicked in I started to think that I could go out for a ride and I owed it to Spendy, the family dog, to go for a ride. Last week I mostly went to places that have lots of other people on the trail so I didn’t take her. However, 6:45 am on Millie’s Trail is always dead so she gets to be my riding companion. So I suited up and took off. It took me about 2 minutes into the ride to realize that I did not have it today. Then I committed one of my own cardinal sins, stopping within spitting distance from the top of the ride.
I did not have it today, so I blame the coffee for lying to me a telling me that I am fine. Spendy was slightly disappointed because I had shortened her run, and I was disappointed because I try to never stop within range of the top of a hill. What kind of a wuss stops right before summit-ting to contemplate the cup of coffee that they had that morning?!?
I love to blame things that can’t defend themselves because its easier than blaming myself, and less work than victimizing those that can defend themselves (this is of course tongue in cheek, I am not a monster people). Food would seem to be an easy target except I am not sure that it can’t defend itself. It is constantly kicking my butt or lying to me, and I keep coming back for more. Its almost as if it is executing some master plan to defeat me.