Josh Billings Ran Me Into the Ground

As promised Cootreaders, I participated in yet another competitionless biathlon today (editor's note, I started this entry on Sunday night). While yesterday's outing consisted of running and kayaking, today's was made up of a shoulder-busting kayaking trip, then an ass-busting bike ride.

Alright, before I get into the particulars of my outdoorsiness, I'm going to put up a picture of the A-car flossing Berkshire toys.



I had a better picture of the A-ride but the background wasn't very flattering, so I went with the one above. What you can't see is that there are actually two kayaks strapped to the roof in addition to the A-bike. No, before you ask, they aren't both mine. A friend of mine owns a kayak but has no means of transporting it, so I am it's chauffer. What a nice guy. And no, before you ask yet another asinine question, I don't ride the bike and paddle the kayak at the same time.

So I powered around the lake in a hair over an hour once again. Afterwards, we tossed the boats onto the car, and pulled the bike down. I changed into my biking clothes in the Port-o-John which requires some real agility. In an ideal world there wouldn't be urine- and poo-tites (like stalagtites, only made of excrement) in a Porto-Potty, but this world isn't ideal. It was quite the balancing act to change without losing my balance even the slightest bit. I exited the Johnny-on-the-Spot sans excrement on my person, score.

We were going to ride the Josh Billings bike route, which ends at the boat launch where we were parked. It's a 10-mile ride to the start of the route, so we used that as a warmup. And by warmup I mean I rode it as fast as I could; stupid, stupid, stupid.

After the warmup, we toured the Berkshire countryside through towns I never knew existed. The route is extremely scenic, taking you through Berkshire county's small, quaint towns and if it weren't for the ungodly hills it would be a route I'd like to repeat a few more times before the fall hits. The downhills are fun and FAST. I don't have a speedometer on my A-bike yet, but I'd have to say we were closing in on 40 MPH. I'll ask my co-rider, she had a fancy pants speedo on her bike. The catch to having fast downhills on a route that begins and ends at the same point is that you ultimately have to get back to the same altitude. And since you're going probably 3-4x faster downhill than you are uphill, you can imagine how long one can spend pedaling up a long, steep hill.

With about 10 miles remaining in the ride, I was hit with what would become an insatiable hunger. All combined, I had paddled over 5 miles in my kayak then biked 37 miles over hills that even God him/herself had foresaken, with a belly containing only a 7AM granola bar. Combine the growling stomach with a severe case of saddle-ass and I was getting grouchy. I spent the remainder of the day walking to and from the refrigerator.

At one point in the early afternoon I settled down on the front porch to warm up in the sun and read the newspaper. Short on energy I tried to nap, but the cold wind made it difficult. Finally the sun came over the house enough to warm my bones and it was off to nappy land for me.

I was probably asleep for about 10 minutes when I'm awoken by the loud voice of a politician hollering "Ah, napping in the sun eh?" Yes asshole, I WAS napping in the sun. Thanks a lot for waking me up. He proceded to give me his spiel, hand me a pamphlet and ask if he could plant his sign on my lawn. Mind you, I'm barely awake, but I was awake enough to turn him down. In retrospect I should have asked him how much he typically rents lawn space for. For $50 I'd be happy to let him use my lawn to promote his campaign. Oh well, another missed opportunity.

Well fans, I have to let you go now. I'll holler at you later.

Over and Out,
Old Coot