Friday night was The Spoke Easy Anniversary Party. I would say it was a success, as I remember most of it. I only have this to show for the whole night though.
I didn't wake up feeling too sparky the next day. I ignored the FaceMessage from Bill Nye about going for a ride at 11:00. I'm sure we probably loosely agreed to it the night before, but I have a clause in my contract that states that anything I say after my third beer is not legally binding in any way.
I couldn't ignore his second message though. Pretty sure he saw that I was "virtually active." It was already too late to drive to Bill Nye's place, get in his car and be in the parking lot at Lake Norman to meet Wirun and Ann on time. It was not too late to scramble and be socially acceptable late tho.
For review, at 9:48AM, I was this:
It was fate. As the others arrived and bike-cycling garmentry was donned, Brian and Madonna rolled into the parking lot. And then we were six.
A pleasant ride of 31 miles at a pace that didn't require sweating, but probably fast enough to burn off my breakfast of Cheezits, Gatorade, banana, fudge brownie and chocolate doughnut (I was forced to adapt).
Sunday started with adult time. Leaf mulching, gutter cleansing... the glamorous things in life. Then all the bikes got a little bit of love with the addressing of dirty parts, soiled/ignored drive trains, and such things. Once finished, I headed out for wheelie practice. Not so much adult time at all.
No flat pedals yet, but trail running shoes and SPD are just gonna be it for now. My chosen practice area appears to be free of gopher holes and has quite an appropriate incline for starting out. I practiced for close to a half hour, and I see why Ryan recommends only fifteen minutes a day. So easy to get a little frustrated after riding around like a moron in a lumpy field of grass trying to learn something a six year old can do.
I actually experienced a few moments where I was in the "sweet spot," and got in five pedal strokes more than once. More importantly, I never ended up on my ass or smashed my nuts.
So, success. No idea when I'll get out again... because... excuses.