This week looks like it will undoubtedly have a theme. I went riding Sunday, the only day it was possible to ride since we got what had to have been thirty inches of rain between Friday and Saturday. The creak running through my yard was running extremely quickly, and taking all sorts of dirt and plant with them. That would not have been a problem had I had a creak running through my yard before the rain came. As it is now I have pools of water where I had grass, but I guess that's enough about that. On to lesson one.
So I grabbed my jersey, threw on a pair of shorts over my boxer briefs, grabbed my gloves, helmet, the Oakleys, checked tire pressure, re-inflated to about 80 PSI, threw two bottle in the cages and headed out. Now, for those of you who caught it you already know where the fatal flaw was in all this. For those of you who haven't picked up on it, go back and reread this paragraph so far, go ahead, we'll wait. OK, so you should've picked it up by now. I had grabbed the old lady's bike out of the basement and inflated her tire, did some tweaking and oiling and such and didn't even consider that maybe, juuust maybe I should be wearing some shorts with a chamois. Show of hands, who thinks that's a good idea? Good, so we're all on the same page now. I went out in the dirt, which made things worse, and due to the aforementioned rain the trails were almost completely dry. Dry, but pitted like they were trenching to lay underground cable, and rocky. Yeah, so I made it a couple hours and realized I just couldn't do it anymore. I headed back to change, and my ass felt like it was on fire. My Ischial Tuberosities (sit bones) felt like they were having skewers jabbed in them. It was an insanely intense amount of pain, and needless to say I didn't get back out.
Lesson for today: There's actually two here. The first is don't be an idiot. The second, lycra really is that important.
1 month ago