Weight training. On a bike.

Next up on the calendar:
The Santa Fe Century (bike 100 miles)

But, but... all I have to ride is my old 1980's steel Centurion. It's pink. It's heavy. The top tube is a little too long for me and my short torso. It doesn't have a saddle at the moment - I took my nice saddle off of it and put it on the dearly departed QR private reserve, which is now toast.

I will not let a little thing like a bike stand in the way of my training! I dusted the pink and white bike. I put an old saddle on the Centurion. I even tried to clean the chain. I hit the road. Three long rides under my belt, and many more ahead. I have suffered numb feet (stupid pedals), nose bleeds, flat tires, and squeaky chains. I have high velocity blood spatter on my windbreaker, and I am out of chamois butter. I average less than 15 mph. But I will not stop.

As dad would say, "Puts hair on your chest!"

I'm sending in my claim form to the Forest Service. I may offer a sacrifice in the hopes of hurrying the claims department on in processing my claim. Maybe a bug. Do you think sacrificing an insect will please the deities in charge of bicycle compensation? A spider? Maybe I should burn a piece of my carbon fiber fork with incense while singing, "Bicycle! Bicycle! I want to ride my bicycle..."