I got like three feet of air!

This morning on my ride in I had an idea. It’s a bad idea on many levels, but it kept me entertained for the rest of my ride in so I want to share it. As I rode in it occurred to me that riding a dual suspension mountain bike is like jumping on a trampoline that has someone constantly steeling your jump. What if it was made so no one was steeling your jump? What if, at the press of a button, you could completely eliminate the dampening? What if as you approached a giant rock, a rock garden, or a fallen tree you could load up your springs and fly through the air, then press the button again to dampen your landing? What if you turned on a world cup race and as Julien and Nino approached a rock garden they both shot up into the air to clear the first half? Then Julien stuck to the dirt for the second half and Nino bounced back into the air to clear the rest of the rock. Nino pulls the double to gap for the win! Imagine Danny MacAskill dropping off of a fence and bouncing over a road full of cars. Who hasn’t dreamt of floating effortlessly above the ground? Again, this idea is pretty stupid for multiple reasons, but the absurdity of bikers flying through the air is what kept me captivated for my ride in. I thought that was worth sharing.

Taco Bell is always the right decision.

Early winter is full of promise. It is dark, but the sky is lit with stars, and the trees and houses are covered in color. Fitness is still good and there are no races to worry about. Late winter becomes monotony. The buzzing of studded tires as I roll to work. It’s light outside so it feels like it should be warm, but it isn’t. My fitness has faded as my clothes have grown tighter. My studs combined with my expansion, equal an uncompromising slowness to my roll. Late winter is monotony. As I prepare for my ride home I lean forward to tighten my boots and a hint of ease comes through. Relaxed I’m stuck hunkered over on the bench in the locker room for several minutes. Someone walks in and embarrassed that I’ve just been staring at the floor I head out the door and mount my bike. The slow roll continues, buzzing all the way, struggling to slowly creep up hills that become bumps in the summer. No attacking, I’m too slow, just monotony. I do get one break every day. Riding through 200 feet of unplowed snowmobile trail that is usually a path in the summer, I pass a man walking his dog every day. After I pass him I have to ride down the hill and over the snow bank to get into the road. Some days the snow bank is bigger, some days it is smaller, but every day I know I have to pound through it since the man with the tiny dog is watching. Soon the stud’s buzzing will turn to birds chirping, and the sun will no longer be a siren’s call to certain cold. Soon my extensive collection of socks of varying thickness will no longer be required. Soon the monotony of late winter will end. Soon the fast pace of racing will begin. Soon I will lust for the monotony of late winter.