Monday, February 13

Grubbing you is easy cuz you're beautiful

Saturday was strange indeed. I was up early in the morning to get my mom to her last chemo appointment (hooray). I got her back home in time for lunch and then headed to the trail for my first decent ride since January 1st. A couple of guys in the parking lot started asking me about my Honda Fit the second I got out of my car. Once the conversation ended, I climbed into the front seat to change into my riding clothes and one of those guys backed his pickup (with tailgate down) into my bike that's leaning against my car. Pantsless, I honked the horn repeatedly as he pushed my bike around. To my relief, he moved forward, but to my dismay, he backed up into my bike once again. More honking and swearing, and then he just leaves. He never noticed and neither did his friend.

I rolled into the trail and found Big Worm walking his dawgs. After my first lap, I returned to the parking lot to make some adjustments to a top secret bike part*. Then someone I used to ride with all the time but I haven't seen in 5-10 years rolled up to me. We chatted and caught up in ten minutes or less, and then it was back out to the trail. I found some people I "know" from the local forum at the log ride, and we talked about roots and whatnot. As we were ending our conversation, none other than Bill Nye TSG rolls up (who I haven't seen since the Shenandoah 100). We rode back to the parking lot together having that awkward conversation style that occurs on fast singletrack.

I returned to my car that had a delicious 10%ABV IPA in the backseat and proceeded to not drink it.

That night, I got an email from Jerry. Somehow he always knows when I have free time. Trail work on Sunday. All right then.

Up at 7:00, out the door at 9:30, and nothing more than a pack of Clif Shot Blocks for breakfast. We did the not-so-fun work of extending a trail, grubbing and benching.

I hate grubbing.

Even though it was only 36° according to my Oh-so-smartphone, I was warm enough to drop down to just a T-shirt.

Jerry snapped this picture as I was giving a stump a serious talking-to.

Hours went by without recognition of the passing of time, and then I saw a big rock ten feet to the left of the trail that would make a great drop/roll-down with what I thought at the time would be very little work and polishing.

We didn't get off the trail until 3:30PM. I thought I was going to pass out. After moving a shit-ton of large stones into place, out of place, making adjustments, and then more moving them into place, we had the semblance of a drop.

Rock bridge under that dirt line to the drop with a huge rock that looked like a tortoise rolled into place (along with others) for a roll-down.

Jerry wouldn't leave until we had the landing zone cleared, grubbed, and benched.

I haven't felt that shitty in a long time. Famished and sore with fingers that didn't wanna grab a pen to do the bills hours later.

* This would be typical bike blogger bullshit. Having a top secret bike part does not make me important or special. It means that I am a hypercritical, super anal crash test dummy that is not afraid to complain, whine, and pick the nits.


Anonymous said...

Rebel! You just can't stick to the standard work can ya? Yer gonna get a rep for always playin' with your rocks on the trail.


pv said...

Major grats to Mom's! That's pretty awesome and you have to be fkin stoked.

Major bummer bout the bike. WTF? Note to self- dress BEFORE you unload bike. A loaded 1911 is also a much better attention getter than some whimpy Honda horn.

I split open the tip of my tongue- Friday and Sunday on the same jinxed water bottle (sometimes I forget my taster is flapping around in the breeze). Nothing like getting black-flagged for blowing blood everywhere when you exhale. Something about insurance regs say no rolling biohazards ???
Fking rules...P/S- blood causes chains to rust like right now.

John Parker said...

totaly OT but here is your chance to be big in France.....

all 29ner's (not that I have a bias, just sick of the "issue") and there is no roots in France (only rocks I think) so no whining there either.