Sunday, May 29, 2011
I considered the bicycle. My dad's 1932 Silver King. It looks like a mountain bike but of course it would be another 40-some years until Fisher (or Ritchey or Cunningham or someone) invented the mountain bike. But still, the bike has an 18" aluminum frame, wishbone rear seat stay, double butted spokes, and front suspension. And, although this bike has tubes, my dad said he had friends back in the 30's who had tubeless tires on their bikes. Sure seems like a mountain bike to me but so many people agree the mountain bike was invented in 1979 that I am not going to stand up and argue the point. Maybe they didn't have dirt trails before Gary Fisher either. What do I know.
Monday, May 23, 2011
I ride at Pontiac Lakes every so often but I think yesterday was the first time I rode there at well below my lactate threshold. I never noticed what a pretty trail it is.This weekend provided me a rare break in the weather and my schedule; I got a few excellent rides in. I didn’t even pretend to train.
I intended to spend the weekend emptying out the house in anticipation of moving to Canton. I looked at some storage units in that area, $187 a month, much more expensive than the storage units here in Brighton. This changed my calculations for what I keep and what I pitch. I will likely live in an apartment for a year. I’m not sure the sum total of everything I own is worth the $2,244 it will cost me to store it for 12 months.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I sheepishly asked a gray goateed racer if this was 45 – 49 Sport, like I was walking into a Leper Colony for the first time. “No” he said, “Those are the old guys behind us.”
It was a good race but I felt guilty for going. I missed my kids' dance competition last weekend so I could race at Fort Custer, leaving me riddled with guilt. Last night I left the kids before Cindy got home so I could drive to Traverse City early. Allie didn't want me to go. I told her she could come with me. She decided to stay home but as I drove up North, Allie kept shooting me with arrows made of pointed texts telling me how selfish I was, very well thought out texts for a 10 year old but her spelling is atrocious. They hurt because they're true.