Hey-soos Christo

It seems I'm getting into the habit of starting a post for one reason but starting it off with something totally unrelated.

In that vein, I'm sad about all of the cool shit that's going down in the cycling world. Alley cats, monster tracks, roller races, you name it. People are getting rad all over the world in groups and I'm over here in southern Virginia with nary an event to throw myself into.

I think I saw about six cyclists doing a Critical Mass ride once as I was meeting friends for sushi, and at random times I've seen a huge heard of spandexed cyclists with a dozen blinking lights each race by the ferry landing, but that's it.

If anyone is in Hampton Roads and wants to get more cycling events going, let's chat. And if anyone anywhere has info on how to setup the rig for a roller race, I'm all ears. I think I could make it a very popular event in my part of town.



Coming back to the title and original reason for this here chicken scratch, today I had the hardest ride ever.

I don't care what Weather.com, Wunderground.com, and Wavy.com (my local news) says, the wind today had to be like twenty miles per hour or more right in my face. I could not get speed to save my life. And as I've sorta stopped checking the weather before I leave the house it was a total surprise. But I knew I was in for it when five minutes in my legs had that deep burn in them.

I'm ashamed to say I caved, if only for a moment, but I caved. As someone who's been in an accident directly resulting from riding on the sidewalk, I've been staunchly opposed to it for a number of reasons ever since. And until today, no matter how slow or tired or fat I was, I never ventured back there. Forgive me Hogfather, for I have sinned. It was only for half a block or so, but I feel burn of the scarlet "S" upon my chest.

Luckily I had remembered to bring some facon with me to work, and that made me feel better.

Sometimes the wind is kissing your ass, and sometimes, well, it's kicking it instead. Happy trails.

- David