It has been a week of revival for me. After weeks of near mindless inactivity, I am able to ride again without worry of damaging my injured calf muscle. Labor day, I tried out single track by riding a short ride, not pushing hard and my calf wrapped tightly. The muscle passed, although I could feel the knot where the muscle is torn, reminding me that all is not yet right. On cue, the muscle swelled with a vengeance, complaining about the exertion that I subject it to.
This week found me a little more than four weeks past the injury, a critical point, itching to test it out some more. I packed my mountain bike onto the back of my car Sunday morning with the hope of rolling some dirt after church. Patience rewarded me, although I had to find a place to change once I reached the trails, public nakedness exposed briefly as I changed into my bike shorts in a remote cul de sac close by the trail head. I managed to ride at a good but not full effort for a little over an hour, cut short by a sagging rear shock and under inflated rear tire. My pedals were scraping in the low spots, a sign that something was not right. It felt great to ride again, nonetheless.
Tuesday, I raced home from work, ready for another dirt ride. I went to get my mountain bike from the garage, discovered a flat tire on the rear wheel. Duh. That was part of the clearance problem on Sunday. The flat was fixed quicly, but for some reason the through axle would not catch for close to an hour. Once I finally got it to catch, daylight was waning. I drove to the trails any way, managing an hour of riding despite low light.
I am riding again. That is all that matters.
Last night, more single track, this time at near 100% effort. I feel like a stud again.
Yes, I am a stud.
It’s a beautiful evening. Time to kick back, hope for dry trails this weekend. I took tonight off, just enjoying the weather out on my back deck, grilled brats and a brew.
Heaven could be now. Mountain bike in cool weather. Evenings with a book.