I’m back to writing about training for pretend bike racing after a very eventful two weeks. After the previous week’s state mandated day of thanks, I conspired with others to assemble a murder’s row of people that a certain Texan would’ve found very "drone strike-able", but thankfully, no such incidents occurred, and we shared a pleasant evening of indoor bike races, inebriation and celebration. It was a very good pair of weeks, but now, as stipulated by my imaginary contract with no one, I must return to writing about whipping myself into shape for my imaginary career as a bike racer.

I have been riding very consistently, and that’s been a bonus. As of late, the greater Ridgewood are has seen an explosion of potential schmalz-ian riding companions, and I have been doing many of my rides accompanied by another person or even more than one person. This is a welcome development, as in year’s past, it has been only me riding alone throughout the wilds of Northern New Jersey with only my own thoughts clanging around in my mind for company—a situation that’s not good for personal sanity. In fact, I am enjoying these rides so much that I was actually persuaded by companions Simon and Jordan to set pedal into Harriman State Park, an area I normally detest, but on this occasion I found it quite pleasant. Additionally, Simon and Jordan are also tethered to the same parental dirigible-schedule (we call it "dad blimping") as I am, so when someone proposes a 6:30am departure, no one thinks twice. This availability of riding companions mean that I maintain motivation to ride and ride longer than I might normally, so there could very well be mightiness in my future.

Of course, this mightiness has been waylaid by the head cold that I am currently harboring. I did the smart thing this weekend and upon arrival of symptoms, I did not ride for two days. After this hiatus, I decided to address my illness in the manner I am accustomed to—I began ignoring it. So far, I have been successful in going about my days without acknowledging any infirmity, and hopefully I won’t have to ignore this cold much longer.

Aside from my illness that shall not spoken of, another moments event has transpired in the world of pretend bike racing. I have joined the ranks of the be-Garmin-ed. Yes, due to an ebay windfall (who knew "game worn" schmalz bib shorts could be so lucrative?), I was able to finance the purchase of an industry standard Garmin 500. I can now claim that I am now like almost everybody else. The Garmin is very easy to use, but I was postponing its purchase until the magical (and mostly imaginary) Vector power measuring pedals were released, but alas, it seems they are clipless unicorns, so I have pragmatically launched the first salvo in my war for "power measurement that won’t gnaw buy bike into pieces like my previous device did" by buying a Garmin 500. My next step would logically buying some sort of power measuring cranks, but austerity measures here at home dictate that I will need to finance that by selling an organ, so I will have to run a feasibility study as to which organ will bring the greatest financial return.

In an attempt to be more visual, here is a blurry photos of my Garmin, now give me the ransom, and it will be returned to you unharmed.

Roman’s Beer Corner

Roman’s beer pick this week is the Coffee Stout from Schlafly, which is brewed in St. Louis and not available in New York State. This may seem to be an unhelpful beer recommendation for a site that is mostly read by New Yorkers, but perhaps this recommendation could also serve as a test to your beer hunting resolve. But if I know Roman, he probably rode his Dave Scott Centurion to Phillipsburg on a Saturday to pick up a six pack before having a light lunch and returning in a boxcar. What have you done for beer today?