You know, that little rat-bastard-fuck oversize rodent, the groundhog, saw his shadow this week. That means 6 mores weeks of winter. And based on what that bitch Mother Nature did last night, I don't think I'll be riding outside anytime soon. I realize that it is South Dakota and it is winter, but c'mon, a ride or two outside would be pimp. I rode once outside in January. ONCE. That's BULLSHIT.The rollers of death have been acceptable and definitely more acceptable than riding a trainer, but riding outside would be nice. I know when I actually get to ride outside, it will be that much more sweet, but riding the road to nowhere kinda sucks. Kinda like a gerbil on a wheel. Not much unlike that bastard Puxatawney Phil.
But, I'll keep riding the rollers of death. The podcasts I watch while riding give me a workout that isn't much different from modern medieval torture, like the rack. Feeling like I'm gonna puke, pass-out, shit my pants, or maybe even die when I am done with my ride is the norm. And I am doing this for good reason. I had a dream the other night that we (Teamfubar or the modern variant of it) got 2nd place at the 24 Hours of Moab. What a glorious, beautiful, terrifying, freaky nightmarish dream.
If we're going to even think about finishing, much less 2nd place, I better get my bubblegum ass pedaling...
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