Some times my best friend, sometimes my worst enemy.

Some times I think my body is my best friend.
Sometimes I think my body is my worst enemy.

Today when I woke up, I was disappointed that my legs were still stiff and sore from this weekend's riding. That just shouldn't be. I have ridden a lot more mileage weekends with no recovery problems. Perhaps trying to plow through snow with 4 inch snow tires, low cadence, hard pushing, places a lot more load on the ligaments, tendons and muscles. At work today to get up from sitting at my desk I had to give a push with my arms to help launch me. Ridiculous I thinks. So my  thoughts, were I shouldn't ride again for the 2nd day. The best thing for bicycling would be for me to rest not to ride, I felt. My body was now my enemy.

Last night working on my Hard Tail bicycle in the basement I lost an internal roller from my jockey wheel, it popped off and rolled away. Disappeared. My basement is cluttered, and somehow this little chunk of metal  was just consumed into thin air by the clutter monsters. I looked again today after work. No luck.

But as I was looking again today I saw my road bike, leaning against the bumper pool table, the bumper pool table that hasn't been used in 10 years, except to pile laundry on.

My road bike and I both wanted to ride. I was sorta settled into another not ride day. But I carried the bike upstairs anyways, and leaned her against the dining room table,  just in 'case.'

I fall asleep watching Judge Judy, with my laptop on my lap checking FaceBook.
I woke up and saw this picture and posting on FaceBook from my lady sending the world a message.

"If she has to be in the dinning room, I get to dress her up the way I want to.:-)"

So now 'we' gotta ride, I take that silly looking hat off of this pavement rocket and put on my 'cycling uniform' and hit the road  I heard this comment through my turned off headphones as we went out the door, "she's too skinny for you anyways"

I rolled down a slight hill, and turned into my first climb. Cranking felt good, I stayed in the big ring, I didn't bother to put my heart rate monitor on, but I knew I was hitting my peak, and it felt good. No more aches and pains, up and down hills through town I went, enjoying the feeling of my lungs screaming for oxygen. Nothing else now mattered, no problems existed, but the shear simplistic joy of riding a bicycle. I rode for 90 minutes, all of it pushing the pace. My body was now my friend again. Sore tomorrow? Maybe. But who cares right now?

 Headed home, I saw these two creatures walking up the sidewalk, sister Dawn and her husband, a.k.a. "CowBoy Dave" as Dawn would say

Later,
DAve