Fall Into Spring

Yesterday, I had to evict the spider that had set up residence over the winter in my spokes. I had the day off, the temperature was in the sixties, and the sun was extending its long arms to ground level in an attempt to pull people out of their dwellings and into the fresh spring air. I had thought about taking my snowboard to the hill one last time, but instead chose to get some real exercise and stay in town and ride my bike. Enough with the snow, I decided.

That being determined, I began the process of gearing up for the first ride of the season, which involved digging through closets in search of my shoes, helmet, arm warmers, gloves (never found those), and kit, which I could only hope was washed before being hastily packed away.

My bicycle needed some air and lube, but was otherwise ready to go, or so I thought. After about ten miles into the ride, while the cobwebs on my legs were still hanging tough, I remembered that I forgot to make one very critical adjustment, the old early spring ride stem raise, and as a result of this oversight, my ride was slightly less pleasant than it could've been. Fortunately, I wasn't heading out too far, and was able to finish without keeling over. Nonetheless, these days, the old body just doesn't work as well as it used to, and consequently, I wasn't riding in Pleasantville.

Of course, my being out of shape can't be entirely attributed to getting older. I didn't spend the winter riding a trainer, or doing yoga, or doing anything that would've maintained the level of fitness I had going in the fall. I just rode chairlifts and drank a lot of beer. I did get my heartrate up once, while nordic skiing. But only once.

We'll see how I hold up on the group ride tonight, trying to hang with dudes who already have five hundred miles on their legs and five hundred less beers in their bellies. I'm sure I'll get blown off the back, left alone for dead, but as long as there is a beer at the end, I should be ok.

Ah, home.