Yesterday, I was on my way to work... the slightly extended route utilizing the more southern approach to the uptown. I'm half-assedly trying to maintain some level of fitness for the the only post-season event I plan on doing, The Wilkes 100k, and my short 20 minute+ commute just won't do. I'm going under the false assumption that one hundred more minutes of junk miles a week will make all the difference.
Going down Brandywine Road, I realized that when I got home later that day, it would be the first time I won't be greeted by Chloe when I walk in the door in over a decade. She tends to bark at me the entire time as I stow my bike, remove my helmet, shoes, and bag, and try to settle in... until I finally pet her. When she was younger, she even used to jump in my arms, sometimes before I was ready. It wasn't always pretty.
Right turn off Brandywine onto Westfield, and I sat up and removed my hands from the bars... not remembering that I did the same exact thing last week and ended up almost busting my ass coming through two major dips that had recently settled in the blacktop. Another close call, and I got my hands back on the grips just in time.
Last week, I'm pretty sure my poor decision resulted in this:
So into the blue bins I go.
Nineteen more days of extended commutes and then the longest I will have to tolerate this thing in one go will be no more than twenty five minutes. I will count the days.
Mountain bike related posts brewing in my head... the upsides of 650B ( I need charts and graphs from Dough), cornering technique confusion, the new dangers of Enduro™...
But it will be worth it.... because... Enduro™.