I have a tendency to ride the same routes and roads over and over again, I do this because: it saves time (I don’t have to spend time planning a ride, I just go); it’s easy (many of my regular routes I can ride on auto pilot, I don’t even open my eyes); and it allows me to monitor all the doings of my arch enemies (I can’t tell you any more about this, or the lieutenant will have my badge). For the past week, cold, snow and being-a-big-puss have kept me inside riding my trainer. My goal has been to ride two hours a day on the trainer because I despise my undercarriage and it must be shown who’s boss. My athletic forays beneath the dirt in my basement make me miss the tedium of riding the same routes day after day, and I can sense that my enemies are growing stronger by the day, and the lieutenant would realize that if he ever got up off his butt and did some real police work.

But I digress. My two hour subterranean sessions have forced me to entertain myself whilst I grind my under bits to a meaty pulp. For some odd reason, I do not normally watch cycling while I cycle, as for me it seems to only exacerbate the fact that I am trapped indoors on a cycling substitute. I prefer to indulge in entertainments that whisk me away from my dan-made dungeon. I begin each ride by catching up on the Daily Show from the previous night (like all good pretend bike racers, I have the sleep schedule of a middle-schooler, and I am never awake late enough to see this show live), and after that I am left to my own devices. Occasionally, there’s a DVR smorgasbord and I do not have to resort to the internet, but most times at the end of my 120 minutes I am left with nothing but an old BBC broadcast of a tour through the Williams F1 factory on youtube (I watch a lot of documentaries, and you’d think that would make me a lot more knowledgeable, but I am usually groveling my way through some sort of bike torture by the time I resort to youtube, so I retain almost nothing, I just see colors and hear the soothing British accents of the narrators).

Did you just see what I did? I just managed to I used two paragraphs to set up an opportunity to slip in a doosh brag about how long I am able to ride my bike on a trainer. If I had a football in my office right now, I’d spike it. Bask in my indoor mightiness! Bask, I say!

My athletic house arrest has also given me time to scour the internet in search of the perfect sock and bootie combination to allow me to return to the wild of riding the same damn roads over and over again (I have pathetically sensitive toes, but tremendously dreamy eyes). I have some booties on order that I hope will do the trick, but I fear that temperatures below the 30 degree mark will require chemical aid (in the guise of toe warmer packs). I have been consulting with the local commuter community on the bootie issue (typing that make me giggle) because those nut jobs are still riding to work in the pitch dark of morning.

And that was just a 115 word paragraph about my excitement over ordering new booties piled on top of a two paragraph set up for a trainer doosh brag. What have I become?

Roman’s Beer Corner

You know what will solve this conundrum? Beer. The elixir that solves every problem. This week’s choice from Roman is the Founders Backwood Bastard from the Founders Brewing Company. It clocks in at a modest 10.20% ABV so it is sure to solve any problems you may have, especially if those problems involve walking in a straight line.