Monday, April 19

Where (ITF) was I?

Thorry not thorry.  Went outta town for a bit, lost touch with reality, came home to find out someone planted a jungle in my yard while I was gone, and then tried to make the most of these last few glorious days of sunshine before heading back into the mines for a week.

The Pie and I went down to Florida.  Again. Where?  Ruskin.

Did you say "where?" again?

If you know where it is, you probably don't understand why we go there.  We like it.  We get to do the things we like to do, and there's not a lot of other people down there.

The following images loaded in no particular order, but since you weren't there, mebbe you'll be okay with the lack of chronologicalness.

Balm Boyette on another solo ride where The Pie had plans in Orlando (this time volunteering at Give Kids the World).  That means she drops me off, then I play until I've had enough, and then I spin myself across the flatness of Florida on a 32X18 for eighteen or so miles.

The Pie did not let a downpour on Sunday keep her from doing her thing.  I'd say she spent 24 hours sitting is this tub over five days.
During the random between-the-deluges road ride I went on, I was below sea level.  Strange.  Twenty miles and thirty two feet of elevation gain.

But those sights tho.

The Real Florida Man (aka Joe) scooped me up and took me to an all new place, Carter Park.

Indeed, we did.

You Mom, not to be confused with Big Momma... you know, named after the gigantic alligator that lives in the neck of the... woods?  Swamp?  Dunno.

Tiny hats for tiny Tiki gods.

Have no clue how I missed  these gigantic jumps lines at Balm Boyette last time.  Guess I had my head up my ass.  Can't say I really missed them tho.

I don't remember these Florida snow men either.

It's probably because I never made it over here... but with my favorite trail closed (Ridgeline... no, not that Ridgeline, the other one), I needed to add some more miles before hitting...

Sweat Loop.  What an apropos name for the miles of pavement that I got to enjoy after popping out of the woods(?), swamp(?) and heading home.

I passed a zoo.  A zoo.  In the middle of nowhere.  Camels, and zebras, and what have you.

I'd heard good things about the glory holes in Florida, but COVID and all...

One of the reasons we come here, The Sunset Grill.  Guess why they call it that.  Open air and pretty much locals and out of towners here to fish (make fish late for things).

I solo'ed over to another new trail ride in Croom.  Lots of trail.  Lots of it flat.  Lots of it not so much.  Drunken Monkey was not.

Had to bail out to a flat bike path to get back to the car in time for... something we were doing that day?  Dog park mebbe?  So. Many.  Recumbent riders.

It was a long ride back.  Boppit wasn't feeling it.  He may or may not have had the shits.

Me doing that one trick I do, the drop to almost but not entirely flat.  You know, on those progression drops that all your local riders say "hey, they should build those in my home town."  Whoever "they" is.  I pay taxes, and I want this.

Boppit on the dining room table hiding from the shame of diarrhea.

Riding in that area is always such an insane mix.  Trails where a rigid single speed makes all the sense, and then you're trying to punch up a steep, loose climb on a knife like ridge littered in rocks and the penalty for failure is a swim in the swamp (not woods).  For someone who has a fear of heights and a fear of falling from them and a fear of water and the fear of the things that live there that want to eat me, it can be unnerving at times.  Roll down a steep and be ready to manual into the next up or get doinked and lose all your momentum.  A whole lotta looking before leaping.

But I do love it, and it was a great trip with The Pie, so there's that.

Back to just biking and working and tryna think about what to do next.

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