It's worked so far, but we're not out yet

After a great weekend of riding, I had a beautiful week of weather ahead me... although most of the local trails were looking to remain closed for at least the start of the week.  I decided to take a break on Monday and knock out some projects.

I still have projects to do after a year of way too much time off?

I'd wanted to get my work stand off the porch and into my tiny bike area for some time now.  I knew it was gonna require some head scratching and measuring to put it exactly into the small space where it needed to be, thus why I'd been avoiding it.  I remembered that I had the wood from my recycled water bed that I'd used previously to make a free standing wall mount for all my bikes, so this would be a $0 project... although it did come at a cost.  I did all the measuring, drawing, figuring, sawing, drilling, and screwing while crouching on my back porch. I don't have an area committed to this kinda work, because I don't want to do this kinda work.

In the end, I got my work stand tucked away under and behind where the grocery getter hangs, and I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd done squats for three hours.  Regardless, I went out for a 45 mile garvel bike ramble with Barlow and then did two hours of trail work later with Niko so I could wake up the next day and do four more hours of trail work with Jerry and then I felt dead.

And then Bill Nye dragged me out into the woods the next day...

Pizza pic from last weekend, but I forgot to post it.  My legs were kinda ded, but whadaya gonna do?

Just send it with frands mebbe?

Do not block the do not block the gate sign.

No baseball playing?  No self-flagellation?  No random stick swinging?

Barlow got me out the next day...

We spent several minutes tryna figure this one out.

Was Tony being shamed for his actions or heralded as a hero or boxed into the one hit wonder genre or simply self-promoting?

And then Todd got me out the next day.  My legs responded thusly:

Not only was I feeling like I was running outta legs, I was entirely outta mountain pizza.

I have to say, one QT sausage/egg/cheese croissant goes a long way.

He got me to go out on a route that we did exactly one year and three hundred and fifty five days ago.

Danny (not MacAsskill) on his first real mountain ride.

He was quite the capable schralper that could kill it on the descents, but the 1,500 foot climb halfway through the ride had him sucking down Todd's spare mustard packs.  I don't think the cramping issues are going to dissuade him from a return trip to the mountains.

Todd told me that I'd done this steep roller the last time we were here, so I trusted him.

It was equally as scary as my last attempt. 

I haven't spent this many nights in squeezy leg bags since whatever the last stage race I did was? 

Member stage racing?  I member.  I used to do such things on this:

I got out for one more spin in the woods on Sunday, making it six mountain bike rides in nine days which is re-energizing.  Facebook member berried me yesterday that I'm celebrating my seventh anniversary of owning the Meatplow V.7 Vertigo, the bike I'd hold onto if the world told me there could only be one.

That was a good break.  With vaccinations looming on the horizon, who knows how much longer this every other week thing's gonna last*, so I'm glad I got an excellent one in the bank.

*I'm just now letting myself have some "hope," so please don't go shitting on my parade with your opinions about "science."  Thank.