Tired (already) of road rides from the house, I went to bed Saturday night wondering what the hell I was gonna do. The Winter Short Track series was kicking off the next day and I usually go heckle/bring the party, but I wasn't about to stand outside in the rain all day. So I did the next best thing...
I hopped on my mountain bike to attempt a ride down to the Short Track race.
I looked at a map before I took off (both weather and road) and I knew I was in for a shitty day. More rain moving in plus a bike with knobby tires on the road would be difficult, but hey, what the hell else was I gonna do with my day? I mean...
Who gives a shit.
I took off out of the house, wondering if I was stupid (news flash, I am.) Around the corner from the house, I made sure to stop to have a chat with my new horse friends.
They didn't try to talk me out of doing dumb shit, so off I went. My route into the city was sorta similar to the road rides I've been doing, except that I could ride on the sidewalks here and there which is moar safer. It was shitty-looking outside, and the closer I got to my destination I knew the rain was gonna start coming down again any minute.
My route wasn't as dangerous as I thought it would be, and I was actually enjoying it. I kept moving at a good pace but stopped along the way here and there to see the sights.
Eventually, I got close to Renaissance Park and heard a ruckus in the woods. I was nearing my destination. I rolled up to the start/finish line and chatted with a few of my bike friends. It was good to see everyone, but I had to get out to the woods to at least attempt heckling (I showed up, after all.) I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a good crowd of people cheering/heckling.
I didn't bring the party. I should have. The skies cleared up for a bit and it actually turned out to be a nice day. I got to hang out with some old friends...
And I watched Charlotte's number one bromance unfold right before my eyes...
It only hurts at first, Dicky.
I stayed out there for hours, having a shitload of fun. I didn't drink any beer though. I'm not sure why. I didn't bring any with me, but my friends had plenty. No one offered and I didn't ask. I don't like to ask for anything but that's probably not the main reason.
I was worried about being able to make it back home on my bike.
I really didn't need to worry though. Even though none of my friends out there offered beer, plenty offered me a ride home. I refused though (just like I would have for beer I guess.) I wanted to suffer, and after standing around for hours in the woods watching a race I figured I would do just that. Eventually I snuck out of there and hit the road. I took it easy for the most part, enjoying the adventure more than anything else.
A little over an hour later, I made it back to the B-43 Worldwide Headquarters. I was beat, and hungry. I had a "proper" dinner.
And I finally had a beer.
Not pictured, many more.
It was a good day on the bike (any day is.) I logged about twenty eight miles, all on a mountain bike (on the road of course.) Some people might call it training. Others would call it stupid.
I'll call it a damn fine adventure.
There will be more dumb shit like this in the future because that's how I do it.