misery loves company... or sometimes just being left alone

I was glad to read on ThomP's blog that I wasn't the only one having trouble finding motivation to go for a ride today. I've been fighting this all-around disgusting depressed feeling for the last few days and I still can't put a finger on why. The upshot of this is: I end up having a terrible time getting myself to even set foot out the door.

I had promised, last week before the holiday, to arrange a group ride with friends and coworkers who have part or all of this week off and had subsequently come to dread the very idea of pulling it all together. An overactive sense of duty pushed me to make it happen, despite myself, and so the email fired away last night with the invitation for a Monday morning ride. Although I expected he would not have the day off, I included ThomP on the distribution, as I always do. That crucial decision would prove to be the ultimate unraveling of my plan to be a lazy ass and drink coffee and mope on a 60-degree day in December. Thom replied to my message with regrets, but asked whether I was thinking of riding today. I had been, of course (I'm always thinking about riding... but mostly I was thinking about not riding). After another volley of emails back and forth (I assume Thom, like I, was sitting at his computer with a cup of coffee, wild hair, glazed eyes, and still wearing the clothes he slept in - at noon or so) I decided this would be a lot easier over the phone (and that way I could be employing both of my laptops and my phone, all at the same time... gawd I'm a dork). On the phone, I prodded Thom to update his Flash Player and watch the final laps of the Superprestige - all the while my own resolve to do some heavy-duty not-riding began to wash away.

Thom, apparently, has recently taken an aversion to getting dirty, so he blathered on and on and on about riding his Sweet Fixie instead of his mountain bike so he wouldn't have to get dirt under his carefully trimmed fingernails by cleaning his bike afterward. There was something in there about a recent manicure and ruining the rose appliqués or something, but I had stopped paying attention at that point. But in that moment, I lost all control of myself and began unconsciously collecting my riding gear from around the room. Once off the phone, I caught the dramatic final lap of the Superprestige, put on my stretchy things, and bolted for the Jeep (The "J" is pronounced like an "H". Say "Heap").

Parker, when I got there, was still a snowy mess. The rain showers of the last few days had cleared the trails some, but the going was still quite slow and sloppy. In fact, I'd say about a third of the loop I took was unrideable or nearly-so. I couldn't take much more than about an hour of that torment, but it still felt good when all was said and done. And there's not much more to tell than that - no dramatic crashes, no helicopter rescues - just a bike ride (walk ride ride ride walk ride ride) in the woods. But I suppose tomorrow is another day.