i'm sitting here, it's 1534 hours in the afternoon, there is a light coating of salt all over my body, i look frosted, my stomach is filing complaints, my legs are having a board meeting right now to see if they want to revolt and cramp or not. just got back from a three and a half hour ride through the desert. luckily, we started at 1115 in the afternoon so we got to ride in grueling heat. good times. i feel surprisingly great, my mind is tricking me so i don't realize how fat and out of shape i am.
yesterday was a good day. didn't do too much, did start out at the gym and lifted more weight than i have before, and felt great doing it. it feels wonderful to be going back to the gym. the highlight of yesterday was dinner. i purchased some super tasty fancy schmancy artisanal bread and made some tasty caponata, and we had that with a bottle and a half of very tasty wine.
so today, after drinking way too much wine and getting a solid four hours of sleep, i embarked on a long hot ride through the desert. i'm a fucking genius,the things i think are a good idea.
still, i did have a great ride, spectacular views, tons of fun, i feel worked but in a good way. i'm looking forward to passing out in about an hour, after my shower and another twenty or so glasses of water.
Showing posts with label mountain bike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mountain bike. Show all posts
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
i call my cat Stinky McPoopsalot
i think cycling can be quite philosophical, many principles and ideas of philosophy can be seen in cycling, and i think mountain biking is a fantastic metaphor for religious beliefs as well.
mountian biking, be it in north carolina, california, arizona, or in japan, seems to follow a pattern: pedal up a steep ass hill for a really really really long time, possibly stopping to puke here and there, at top ride a super sweet wonderful trail that is beautiful and thrilling and fun, and swoop down the mountain climatically on a sweet fast and fun trail. and that, to me, smacks of religion.
many group rides are on a sunday, sort of like church. you must atone and suffer, painfully climbing up that steep and rocky hill, occasionally falling, each pedal stroke a prayer asking for mercy. there is sweat and blood, you are burdened with whatever you carry on your back. but you climb and climb, heavenward, because once you make it, it is heaven. at the top is redemption, you are reborn and given a reward. the trail is effortless, you laugh and are giddy, ecstatic. the view is spectacular. you must work hard to get to a good trail, and it seems the amount of work you put into it is directly proportional to the coolness of the trail. the really spectacular special and secret trails are well hidden and take lots lots of work to get to.
sure, there are fun trails that are easily accessible, but the really really really fun stuff requires effort. nothing worth anything comes easy, and this is totally true for mountain biking. work, reward. work hard, get bigger reward. quite often, the harder you work, the better the view, and the more sweet the single track.
there is an existential side to it all. when you ride, really really ride, you are living authentically. when you are out there, pedaling, sweating, you forget about appearances, you forget about putting on airs, you are so consumed with the trail and the ride that you become, if only for a brief moment, the total you, the true you. when you are tired and hungry, possibly lost, the weather is crap, you reveal yourself, you see who you are and what you are made of. riding tends to break you down into your most simplest form. i've seen cool awesome guys lose their shit when faced with a sketchy trail, i've seen guys who i thought were not much show their true strong awesome selves.
there is a buddhist bent to it. to really really mountain bike well, you must be present, in the moment. have you ever been riding along, and suddenly BAM you are on the ground? nine times out of ten your mind was wandering to other things, you lost focus, you suddenly were thinking of something else, not the trail. being on a trail, especially a technical trail, forces you to live in the moment, again, you forget your worries, cares, who you are, what bills you have to pay, what that jerk on the forum said, and you are consumed with that moment. you and your bike moving as one. it's a special time, because everything starts to flow, you are "on" and it all comes together, you forget there is a you, all you feel is the movement through air, the trail beneath you. it's a meditation of sorts, and pretty fucking close to enlightenment, as far as i'm concerned.
there is truth, simple truth, real truth, in mountain biking. when you are out there, riding a bike, there is no faking it, no lying to yourself or others. you either climb the hill or you don't. you clean that rocky section or you don't. you can have a badass $5,000 bike, look like a pro, talk like a pro, and act like a pro, but on the trail, none of that matters. your bike doesn't matter, your clothes don't matter, your tattoo and soul patch and hemp bracelet doesn't matter. if you can't ride a bike, it shows, and all that bravado and smack talking and chest puffing is gone like rice paper in boiling water.
cycling, especially mountain biking, to me, is philosophical, bordering on religious, and is wonderful.
mountian biking, be it in north carolina, california, arizona, or in japan, seems to follow a pattern: pedal up a steep ass hill for a really really really long time, possibly stopping to puke here and there, at top ride a super sweet wonderful trail that is beautiful and thrilling and fun, and swoop down the mountain climatically on a sweet fast and fun trail. and that, to me, smacks of religion.
many group rides are on a sunday, sort of like church. you must atone and suffer, painfully climbing up that steep and rocky hill, occasionally falling, each pedal stroke a prayer asking for mercy. there is sweat and blood, you are burdened with whatever you carry on your back. but you climb and climb, heavenward, because once you make it, it is heaven. at the top is redemption, you are reborn and given a reward. the trail is effortless, you laugh and are giddy, ecstatic. the view is spectacular. you must work hard to get to a good trail, and it seems the amount of work you put into it is directly proportional to the coolness of the trail. the really spectacular special and secret trails are well hidden and take lots lots of work to get to.
sure, there are fun trails that are easily accessible, but the really really really fun stuff requires effort. nothing worth anything comes easy, and this is totally true for mountain biking. work, reward. work hard, get bigger reward. quite often, the harder you work, the better the view, and the more sweet the single track.
there is an existential side to it all. when you ride, really really ride, you are living authentically. when you are out there, pedaling, sweating, you forget about appearances, you forget about putting on airs, you are so consumed with the trail and the ride that you become, if only for a brief moment, the total you, the true you. when you are tired and hungry, possibly lost, the weather is crap, you reveal yourself, you see who you are and what you are made of. riding tends to break you down into your most simplest form. i've seen cool awesome guys lose their shit when faced with a sketchy trail, i've seen guys who i thought were not much show their true strong awesome selves.
there is a buddhist bent to it. to really really mountain bike well, you must be present, in the moment. have you ever been riding along, and suddenly BAM you are on the ground? nine times out of ten your mind was wandering to other things, you lost focus, you suddenly were thinking of something else, not the trail. being on a trail, especially a technical trail, forces you to live in the moment, again, you forget your worries, cares, who you are, what bills you have to pay, what that jerk on the forum said, and you are consumed with that moment. you and your bike moving as one. it's a special time, because everything starts to flow, you are "on" and it all comes together, you forget there is a you, all you feel is the movement through air, the trail beneath you. it's a meditation of sorts, and pretty fucking close to enlightenment, as far as i'm concerned.
there is truth, simple truth, real truth, in mountain biking. when you are out there, riding a bike, there is no faking it, no lying to yourself or others. you either climb the hill or you don't. you clean that rocky section or you don't. you can have a badass $5,000 bike, look like a pro, talk like a pro, and act like a pro, but on the trail, none of that matters. your bike doesn't matter, your clothes don't matter, your tattoo and soul patch and hemp bracelet doesn't matter. if you can't ride a bike, it shows, and all that bravado and smack talking and chest puffing is gone like rice paper in boiling water.
cycling, especially mountain biking, to me, is philosophical, bordering on religious, and is wonderful.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
new bike, awesome day
been forever since i wrote here. the last time i wrote here i had fucked up my finger, a lot has changed. my finger is still fucked up, but i have a brand new kick ass awesome bike, it's magical, i can do just about anything on it. i rode the section that caused my finger to bend, i've ridden other stuff i hadn't ridden before.
two days ago i went for a pretty awesome road ride, last night i tried to ride but my legs were still not ready. then there was today....
today was a great day, i am totally beat, spent, done. went for a big ride to day, in the hot sun, drank a beer or two, and now i wanna call it a day.
great ride, i look forward to the many rides to come.
two days ago i went for a pretty awesome road ride, last night i tried to ride but my legs were still not ready. then there was today....
today was a great day, i am totally beat, spent, done. went for a big ride to day, in the hot sun, drank a beer or two, and now i wanna call it a day.
great ride, i look forward to the many rides to come.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
finally got to ride a bike
i haven't ridden in forever, today i felt good (for the first time in a while) and the weather was cooperating (sort of) and the trails were dry, so we went for a ride.
february in colorado, out these parts it’s warm and sunny and the ground is dry. we went for a ride, it was windy, it was chilly, but it was pretty damn nice, because we were riding bikes in february.
coming down the drop in, i managed to fall nicely. i was fine, got up, and i felt something odd with my hand. thank the gods i had gloves on, because i grabbed the upper half of my left pointer finger, and without thinking about it, instinctively snapped it to the right, back in place, where it belongs. thankfully i did it before i realized what i had done, perhaps i was in a minor state of shock, and i’m thankful for it.
since it was pretty much at the beginning of the ride, my finger was pretty useless for the majority of the ride, which meant braking was a bit not that fun. holy crap i was tired too, i hadn’t really been on a bike for about a month, went for that short ride a few days ago, and now this. being all sick didn’t help much i’m sure, but although i was coughing like a 3 pack a day smoker, my lungs seemed to work ok, and they felt good.
after the ride, back at the truck, i had a bit of medicinal brownie, and now my finger feels fine and i can type. tonight we go to Ross’s house for moive night. i should be feeling way past fine in a few hours.
great day, despite the messed up finger which doesn’t bend too well.
february in colorado, out these parts it’s warm and sunny and the ground is dry. we went for a ride, it was windy, it was chilly, but it was pretty damn nice, because we were riding bikes in february.
coming down the drop in, i managed to fall nicely. i was fine, got up, and i felt something odd with my hand. thank the gods i had gloves on, because i grabbed the upper half of my left pointer finger, and without thinking about it, instinctively snapped it to the right, back in place, where it belongs. thankfully i did it before i realized what i had done, perhaps i was in a minor state of shock, and i’m thankful for it.
since it was pretty much at the beginning of the ride, my finger was pretty useless for the majority of the ride, which meant braking was a bit not that fun. holy crap i was tired too, i hadn’t really been on a bike for about a month, went for that short ride a few days ago, and now this. being all sick didn’t help much i’m sure, but although i was coughing like a 3 pack a day smoker, my lungs seemed to work ok, and they felt good.
after the ride, back at the truck, i had a bit of medicinal brownie, and now my finger feels fine and i can type. tonight we go to Ross’s house for moive night. i should be feeling way past fine in a few hours.
great day, despite the messed up finger which doesn’t bend too well.
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