More than a month off of any sort of bike due to spinal issues made yours truly a grumpy old fart. But I listened to my wise chiropractor (Dr. Heidi Olson rules!), took it easy, did what I was told and just a couple of weeks ago was able to rig up my trainer and flail indoors while the last of the season’s rains came down. A few sessions of boredom finally led to an actual hoopty ride, then a longer jaunt and it was game on at last. Now I’m slowly bridging up to my vanished early season fitness after it was collapsed by 2 vertebral disks that blew up like ancient tubulars.
Made sure to get a couple more road rides in to see how things were holding together and then it was time to get dirty. This past weekend I finally rolled on my brand spanking new Scott Genius mountain bike and immediately began to experience epic moments of transcendence and Zen. Even though I was out of shape and hadn’t ridden a mountain bike in over 2 months, the feeling was of immediate composure and speed. The Scott utterly overshadowed the performance of my old Marin and had me grinning from ear to ear. (I promise to write up a proper report once I get a few more miles in!)
Of course since the trails I was riding were on Diablo - and this being spring - I’d forgotten that not only is it drop dead gorgeous and the trails are just awesome, there are truckloads of young cows grazing and processing the lush vegetation into prodigious quantities of delicately scented bovine excreta. Up until now I’d done a good job dodging cowpies – until I rode up to a small herd ambling along on the trail. I tried to scatter them by yelling at them in Spanish, but three of beasts held formation and kept trotting along. The fire road tightened up on both sides and then as if on cue all three let loose – their massive wave of effluvia covering the trail. There was no escape. I did my best to slow down even more and thread my way through the curtain of doom – but avoidance was not in the books. I got spackled. My spanking new bike got spackled, and my stunning white saddle looked anything but.
Once anointed with fragrant Diablo Curry I decided that dropping down into the canyon and sloshing through the stream crossings would be a great way to knock the gruesomeness of it all back a notch or two. I thought it had helped, but maybe not so much. On the way home I picked up my daughter and she gave it to me straight as soon as she hopped in the car, she said “Eww daddy – you really smell like poo!”
Ride on ~ Melvis
My buddy Eric would tell you to get a fender! I bet that your chamois smells good too. ;-)
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