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It’s a Thursday evening and one of those nights that takes a good amount of (mental) effort to get your lard ass to the trailhead, but you know once the wheels start turning, a jolt of energy will hit you like a drug, with it turning frowns into smirks. Every mile turned is like the peeling of an onion, getting better with each layer.
A few miles in, pull to the side and take a break to watch the moon rise over a struggling city, wondering why the fuck you are the only one out of a million people using the trail that night. Crack a beer, take some deep breaths, instant ease. No more worries at that particular moment. It’s a good life getting out for a Thursday Evening Pedal.
About 30 minutes later, I approached some bright lights in the desert, mountain bikers…awesome. Getting closer it became apparent they were females, awesomer. She asks, “Have you been out here for a while, or did you just come?”
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No… this lard ass sits at home and drinks a couple of double ipa’s topped off with some nice single malt because he feels guilty if he leaves his soul mate home alone with the demon spawn all the while reminiscing of his glory years of his mid thirties.