Got out this evening for a nice hour-plus ride with David. I’m trying to ride every day this week, now that I have some time on my hands, so this was a good one. Temperatures are relatively mild — have to enjoy them while they last — and we’re not supposed to have any rain for a week or so.
The ride was interesting for another reason, too. David is letting me try out one of his spare saddles. He saw that I was questioning whether to keep the saddle I’ve been riding on since I bought my bike, or if the discomfort in my nether region might ease if I planted myself on a different perch. It’s a narrower saddle than the one I’ve been using, and feels pretty good. But I won’t be in a position to report on it until I’ve taken at least one long ride on it. In addition, I just put it on the bike this afternoon and rode. It needs a little fore and aft positioning and more attention to leveling to get it just right.
While enjoyable, this evening’s ride had something in common with the other rides I’ve taken lately. A feeling of no purpose. I mean, I’m always glad to get out there, and I know it does me some good (I’m already coming back from the weekend’s food binge). But I’m not shooting for anything.
This is part of the anticlimax I’m feeling now that the MS 150 (or 77) is over with. During the weeks prior to that ride, I knew that my pedaling was accomplishing something. It was preparing me to handle two days of long riding. But two weekends ago, a conflict forced me to miss the Armadillo Classic which I enjoyed so much last year, and I’m not preparing for any other major rides. There’s the Real Ale ride in two weeks, but I’m not sure I’ll be riding in that one. Then the summer is dry until the Waco Wild West Century in September — and I’m not sure I want to drive 100 miles to ride 100 miles (or even 100 kilometers).
So I’ve just been riding. Ho hum. I hope the summer doldrums I ran into last year aren’t returning early.