Young and old

When I moved to Tucson, I was a relatively spry 32 years of age. Despite my status as a complete lardass, I could still bike down on the singlespeed and beer up with the microbrews with some level of abandon. I'm now 38, and despite weighing about 40 pounds less than I did then, I am nevertheless mortified that I am beginning to experience the vanguards of middle age such as a fragile spine and occasional knee pain. It takes more than a half day to recover from a hard bike ride. Dosing with Ibuprofen prevents me from imbibing. I'm skipping over the gray hair phase and going directly to white. My eyebrows are getting out of control and what is with this ear hair?

But there's still hope.

Late last week, I was very pleased to find that I had contracted conjunctivitis, aka pinkeye. Its something typically associated with being in your teen years, not the years where you're old enough to have a teenager (which I don't, thank Jah). I may be developing an early-stage geezer body, but I've got the eyes of a millennial, dammit! Or at least I will once they clear up. This gives me hope that I can move gracefully through my impending midlife crisis and then eventually make a seamless transition into being a gnarly old dude.

In more immediate news (i.e. this morning), Sweetwater's cool air and largely empty trails were absolutely wonderful. I followed my short trail ride with an even-shorter dog walk. Unfortunately, I split with the dogs without realizing BeanSS wanted to go with us. She's now out hiking solo in the steadily building warmth, but she's also getting the kind of workout one can only get when they don't need to stop every 10 feet to let the dogs sniff this or pee on that.

Now its back to the eye drops for me.

Only by the night

I'm just now back from a nice little night ride over at Greasewood Park. This evening's featured nocturnal animal sightings included lesser nighthawks flushing from the trail and millipedes doing whatever it is they do for kicks. I usually only see millipedes out and about during the monsoon season, but maybe they were responding to the aberrant couple of days of rain we had earlier this week. I also saw what I think were some kind of pocket mice. Or maybe they were cactus mice. I don't know, I was moving along kinda' quickly.

The night ride was partly to avoid the resurgent heat and partly because my sleep patterns are still messed up after an out-and-back trip to the Valley on Tuesday to see the Kings of Leon at the Mesa Amphitheater. It was a great concert, but the whole adventure threw a warp into my schedule that's only now starting to settle down. I'm too old for this shit.

Speaking of circadian rhythms, I'd better sign off and get to bed at a reasonable hour so I can get up and walk the dogs in the morning. I've got to get them out early rather than late because I'm not sure they'd appreciate birds, arthropods, and rodents in quite the same way I do.

Motivation

Veelz called yesterday afternoon to see if I was up for a night ride. I said no, thanks, my back was still sore from last Sunday. That was a true statement. I then said that until I felt better, I was going to be a roadie. That was not a true statement. I had no intention whatsoever of riding my road bike and, in fact, had planned to pretty much laze around for most of the weekend.

And laze I did. I'd already spent 3 hours birding in the front yard before lunch. Veelz's call came at the end of a wonderful 2-hour afternoon nap. And yet the little white lie festered for the rest of the afternoon, overnight, and right into my dog walk this morning. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I aired up the skinny tires and went out for a brief ride, thus making good on my statement about riding the road and short-circuiting my plans for a weekend of sloth.

But of course, I am not now nor have I ever been an actual roadie, and no amount of pavement can ever substitute for a trail ride. But it's also getting to the point that no amount of saguaro-lined singletrack, no matter how sweet, can substitute for a pine tree-lined singletrack. I have got to get to Flagstaff, Silver City - anywhere I can hear my knobbies crunching pine needles rather than crushing rock. Yeah, I'm back to bitching about needing a road trip. And I'm going to keep bitching about it until I can actually make it happen.

So is that a promise or just another lie? We shall see.

Singletrack, bad back, flapjacks

Just as I'd hoped for yesterday - up before dawn, bike in the back of the truck, and a few laps on the bunny loops at Sweetwater. It took a while for my legs to feel like they were with the program but I set a new record for fewest coughs per hour. In fact, I may finally be kicking this stuff - just in time to head back to work tomorrow. Whee.

The primary bummer was that I somehow wrenched my lower back while out on the trail, but it's nothing that a little Ibuprofen and some wincing won't handle. Plus, it gives me a reason to put off weight lifting for another day and instead read the Spine Owner's Manual article in the latest Dirt Rag.

I got back home in time for a quick couple of walks around the block with BeanSS and the dogs - inflexible spine and all - and then it was pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs for breakfast. I know I can't eat like that every day, or every weekend for that matter, but it was nice to not have to have my millionth bowl of cereal.

Now, it's off to the movies.

Forked

I am so happy that it is finally Saturday. I spent much the work week testing the hypothesis that it is possible for me to be so thoroughly bored that I actually slip involuntarily into a state of unconsciousness. What's more likely the case is that I'm getting overly fatigued by my lingering sickness (3 weeks today), the sleep lost to nighttime coughing jags, and three afternoons of bike commuting in the summer-like heat. That still doesn't mean I'm not bored, but it could better explain the repeated, though brief entries into a torpor-like state.

Despite feeling overall like warmed over crap, I at least start each day with a little burst of energy. This morning, I took the dogs out for a nice walk right after sunrise, and then got my newly repaired fork bolted up. I'm a bit curious as to why the rebound damper knob is now far more difficult to turn than before, but I'm hoping that twisting tightness equates with oil tightness.

Since everything was already more or less dialed in from before, the installation went pretty quickly. At one point, I noticed that a headset seal was missing. I then remembered picking up a random skinny washer-type thingy from my workshop floor the other day. I figured it was something a woodrat had dragged in but I set it aside anyway. Turns out it was the missing seal. I'm just glad I found it before the woodrat decided to actually haul it away and cache it. And I really need to trap and relocate those rats because the turd piles are reaching epic proportions, and that doesn't even include the volume of the dog logs they've carried in there. Hmm, maybe that is why I can't breathe - is hantavirus endemic to southeast Arizona?

Also, of all things, I had some trouble with the zip ties I was using to secure the front cable housing and the wires for my cyclo-computer. I couldn't find the jumbo bag of electrician's wire ties that I've been using for years, so I grabbed a few out of an assortment I found in one of those bins of el cheapo tools at the auto parts store. Every one of the cut-rate ties snapped just as it was being pulled tight. I would not have imagined that there are such things as high-end zip ties and low-end zip ties. Next time, I think I'll spend the extra 50 cents and get the nice ones.

Anyway, my singlespeed is now ready to ride, though no matter how precise I endeavor to be, I will invariably find the handlebars out of whack in relation to the front wheel. I'm going to spend the rest of the day trying to convince myself that I will evict whatever the hell is living in my lungs, get a good night's sleep, and be able to make an attempt at the two easiest loops at Sweetwater tomorrow.

Fluids

My suspension fork came back from the manufacturer, and it's once again full of oil and working properly. I wish there was somewhere I could send my lungs for service. They're also full of something and are definitely not functioning. It'll reach 100º later this week, so it looks like this lingering chest congestion crap has managed to take out the last few days of the nice spring weather. At least the mornings are still cool. Anyway, I've been pavement-bound for a few weeks and I'm looking forward to getting out on some trails, air temperature notwithstanding. And dammit, I have got to get up to Flagstaff this summer so I can test myself on a singlespeed at altitude.

So, can we all tell that I've switched my obsession du jour from fishing back over bicycling? I still want to get out and fish but one simple fact remains: bicycling is instant gratification while fishing requires a road trip. Gas is cheaper these days but I only have so much time away from work, and I'd rather not spend it all in a car.

But didn't I just say I wanted to ride in Flagstaff? There's 5 or 6 hours in a car - each way. The simple answer is that Flagstaff's mountain biking is some of the best in the west, while southeast Arizona's fishing scene is a more or less a joke. There you have it.

Either way, I'm looking forward to whatever adventures may happen this summer.