A mild March and the onset of Daylight Savings Time has provided an abundance of opportunity lately to do what I like best. Yes. You know it.
Ride my bikes.
Notice that was plural. This time of year, if I am able to get out for a ride at all, it’s on the road. With freeze/thaw and storms during March, usually the dirt is mud, not suitable for riding off road. But last Saturday joyful posts of rides appeared on my Facebook, rides on dirt single track and on my local trail system. The trails were drying out. So this Thursday my boss encouraged me to cut out of work a little early, I begged off giving my son a ride home from tennis practice (he has friends whose parents owe us BIG time), and I loaded up my mountain bike. I rushed off to Saw Wee Kee park, enjoyed 90 minutes of pure bliss on pristine trails. I met two friends when I got there, ready to ride, and we shredded the trails together.
Yesterday morning was three more hours on the trails. My friend, Jon, and I had a blast. We were in mountain bike heaven, two men who transformed into Lost Boys for a few hours. Jon had to leave, I went back in for another half hour. Riding was that good. I couldn’t stop no matter how tired I was.
And I was tired. I got home with that pleasant burn in my muscles that comes from a good workout. It was then that I discovered the best recovery regimen ever — Chester the cat. I showered, went downstairs to plop on the couch, stopped to scratch Chester behind the ears along the way. Chester decided just a scratch behind the ears was not enough, crawled into my lap with a loud purr. It’s funny how the tired left me, lost in the affection of a warm cat.