In an odd turn of events I seemed to turn it around and ride somewhat like a champ. Strange, after pretty much cancelling tonight's excursion from another exhausting day. It's funny how whenever one can feel like a bag of ass but yet head out for a ride and become reborn.
Today was the complete opposite from yesterdays sad, sad attempt. Yesterday I rode like a 45 year old hardcore hockey Dad complete with track pants and matching hockey coach jacket would on one of his attempts at "mountain biking" on his Costco bike. Today I felt like a steroid induced Lance Armstrong. The difference between the two nights is really quite astounding.
The ride wasn't a long one that had no river crossings. Mill Creek to Old Timers cabin and down through the Canada Cup loop back to a little bit of Ewok teasing, meaning I stood outside and looked in. The ride was grand and nature provided me and all the other lucky mountain bikers with green caterpillar worms hanging from the trees for free protein. Once back in my beloved Mill Creek the gas tank emptied fast and I had the pleasure of scaring the living shit out of a girl who obviously had never been into the river valley and seen a mountain biker. I think my loud hub added to the drama, her boyfriend seemed quite embarrassed and stood to the side and watched her as she screamed and put her arms straight up over her head and stood in the middle of the trail. I luckily had enough room to go around quickly and disappear into the trees. Good stuff...
|snow in june|
|the complete opposite of a potty break|