April 27, 2010

As I was driving home from work today, a single word kept popping in my head.

Crusty.

I just feel crusty.

Tired and worn out from this weekend. Beat down from a bunch of trying days at the office. Sick of performing endless amounts of overdue maintence on what seems like all my bikes.

Plus I missed my recovery ride yesterday.

What I needed was a break.

After work I picked up the boys from school. We raced home and pulled out the Big Wheel and the Trek Mod along with a dozen small traffic cones.

Spent over an hour racing around and smashing through walls of stacked up plastic orange triangles.

So fun.

I quickly set a temp basal rate and changed to get out on the fixed gear.

Sans lycra bibs. Sans heart rate monitor. Sans gloves. Sans training plan. Sans CO2 cartridge and tube.

90 minutes of daylight, a ripped pair of baggie Nema shorts, and a borrowed iPod.





As I rounded the corner at the end of my block, I could feel the crust begin to crack.

When I hit the American Tabacco Trail 15 minutes later I jacked the music way up, came out of the saddle, and road with the hammer down for the next 60 minutes.





And it FELT GREAT!!

Just having fun tearing along.

Although the ride ended way too quickly, I felt like a completely new person when I pulled back in my driveway.

Breathing hard but refreshed. Reborn. Refueled. Greased and gassed.





And, not surprisingly, crust free.

Bikes are amazing.

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