Last night in a rare fit of forethought, I decided to check to make sure my bike was ready for the ride this morning. With a 5:00 (sharp) departure, the bike's either ready, or I ride alone. Since I cleaned the bike and lubed the chain after the Sunday ride there shouldn't be much to do. Or so I thought.
While topping off the front tire, the top of the valve broke off in my fingers. OK, change the tube. Better now than right before the ride, right? Next, I topped off the rear tire, wiped down the chain and...hmmm...the saddle looks a little...off. I take the bike off the stand and sure enough, the saddle is pointing up at about a 30 degree angle. I wonder how that happened. No matter. A few quick adjustments and it's back to where it should be. Finally, I reinstalled the rear fender and tail light and gave the chain a quick wipe. All done and now off to bed.
So at least my bike was ready for the ride this morning. Turns out my body wasn't. I nearly got dropped on the ride to the trail head. Then I did get dropped on the trail. I took the shortcut through Old School and got caught in the Savannah. I was cooked, baked, done, fried. Probably braised and sauteed, too.
And, worst of all, I couldn't even blame the bike.
One year in Colorado
15 hours ago