This is alarming to me; first, that the snarkiness of a thought is measured by Bike Snob's reaction and not my own, and secondly that there is room for critique in my posts. This will not stand, Dude.
The unstated mission of my blog is to be the gold standard of cyclo-blogging snarkiness. I've been secretly developing my snarksenal in preparation for an overthrow of the Fatty/Snobby dictatorial stranglehold on humorous and semi-humorous cyclo-centric weblogs.
I'm serious. Stop laughing. I'm taking about the complete annihilation of all other snark and the global domination of the bicycle humor industry.
This ain't small potatoes.
In my defense (at not having already achieved total domination) I've been über-busy lately. But...I've learned a few new universal truths over the past couple of weeks. One of those is:
An increase in caffeine intake does not mitigate chronic dark circles under the eyes.
Now that's it's spring I might start cutting back on the coffee anyway. I don't drink a lot of hot drinks when the weather is warm. The week before this past my synapses were redlining most of the time. I was so preoccupied with work drama and workload that one evening I left The One out by the basement door overnight. I saw it when I returned home the next afternoon. That's just not like me. Though semi-chronic racing-mind insomnia is very much like me. I definitely felt a Fight Club-like fugue state coming on.
Speaking of spring…Jeff and I headed out for Clark County on our bikes Saturday morning. Jeff needed to end up between Winchester and Lexington to meet his family, and I just needed to ride.
"Wanna go over Beechfork?" The Mozhican asked.
We turned down Washington Street heading for Maple Street. We'd be only a block from the CTL's lair: the public library.
"Wanna go taunt Mark?" I asked as we neared Railroad Street. A familiar looking car eased up to the stop sign as we passed through. It was Mark in his car which is a make known for its safety. Ironic for the Crash Test Librarian… I gestured for him to get his bike and ride with us but saw him shake his head no. So we pedaled on without him.
A little while later I got a defensive text from him explaining why he wasn't riding and some threat about a miscalculation in my library fines (yeah, I have some), blah, blah, blah. Then I saw him later at the community reading celebration and he gave me a litany of excuses for being seen in his car. Whatever. We’ll talk more about Mark’s increasing moto-fascism in tomorrow’s post.
|Fox on the Run, Trapp, KY|
|A rare full frontal view of Jeff leaving the mouth of the Red River|
|County store to country store tour of Clark and Montgomery Counties|
|A rare Central Kentucky multi-use path|
Jeff had not been feeling well, but decided to go ahead and ride, and he ended up feeling okay while riding. It was good because it broke my psychosomatic wussitude. While our ride wasn't fast it was hilly. We rolled and we dive-bombed and we crawled up short steep hills.
A consult of Strava afterward showed 4,000-ish feet of gain. I'm skeptical, but it was still a lot of up and down. Our ride stayed near the Red and Kentucky Rivers so we were traversing a lot of drainages within a mile or so of their mouths. And on rural roads that had not been constructed with the benefit state or federal funds.
The Mohican is coming at us fast like a texting driver on the wrong side of the road. Miles are golden. Hills doubly so.
It was a good ride, though fraught with loose dogs and abandoned houses. Loose dogs enter into tomorrow's post (along with Mark’s deepening betrayal of the local cycling culture), but it plays out in my home county and not south Clark.
When Jeff and I parted ways I changed plans. I’d just gotten a text from Mandy that she and her sister were taking the Day Felipé spawn to see a kiddie movie at Studio Stage in Mount Sterling. Well, it’s called something else now, but 35 years ago it was called Studio Stage. I decided I would cut cross country (on roads of course) to Mount Sterling to meet up with them and then catch a ride back to Powell County in the car.
My biggest fear was that I’d not make it by the end of the flick and they’d head back without me. I made it though, only 20 minutes into the film, and managed to tick 53 miles to boot. I thought my cycling was done for the weekend and got into home improvement mode for Sunday afternoon.
We’ll get into how my plans were thwarted, and how I showed the world that chivalry is not dead in tomorrow’s post.