Purple

In an attempt to stave off road season burnout until the end of road season, I broke the mountain bike out today.

I have, over the past week or so, been giving it some much needed TLC in the basement. Taking parts off, cleaning them, greasing them, putting them back on, taking them back off again.

Even, in one instance, taking a part off and then putting it back on with a hammer.

Take that allen wrench.

Every year when I first hit the singletrack (every year around my birthday), I am in awe at how hard it is. My confidence is shot. I brake for everything. I see a rock, I wet myself.

Scary stuff, dudes.

But I pushed through it, pedalled the hour and fifteen minutes out to quarry ridge park in Fitchburg, railed 5 or 6 hot laps, then headed back home.

There is some new stuff there. I used to think the descent from the top part was steep and hairy for a bit...and then a lot of fun. Now it's even hairier...and a little more fun. To top it off, I finally mustered the stones to hammer out the trails that paralell the southwest commuter path. I'd give them two thumbs up. The problem in the past is that I have never been sure if it was legal to ride a bike on them. But today I threw caution to the wind and was rewarded with nothing more than a banged up pinky (thanks, pine tree).

All in all, a good day. And I didn't feel like I was forcing myself to be out there. Tomorrow, criterium at Sussex, WI. Right now, Shower. In conclusion, Mountain Biking is still harder than road biking.

I'm hoping there are not as many wood ticks on me as there were on my backpack.