A bout with sickness and a continued struggle with being the laziest/fattest bike racer in Central Iowa is continuing to f*ck with my Trans Iowa chi, but with only 3 months remaining I am still confident that when the rubber hits the rock that I will be in sufficient shape for the challenge. (I don’t know that you can actually be fully prepared for that monstrosity, at least not if you are me, and the physical challenge Is only part of the odeal, there are many other factors).
Training for gravel used to be so much more convenient at my old abode, known to he world as The House Formerly Known As The Pink House (it was repainted in spring 2011). THFKATPH sits at the intersection of the Great Western Trail and Adams Street, a gravel road which is known to the gravel grinding freaks of DSM as the entryway to all of the finest gravel South Central Iowa has to offer. Adams is a big part of the Booneville Loop, is touched upon briefly during CIRREM, and during the fall and winter seasons is a great place for run-ins with like minded rock riders.
In the “old days” or the last two years really, gravel riding was as simple as wheeling my bike out the kitchen door, riding down the dirt drive, and hanging a left on Adams. Then it was on to Gravel Glory, heading east then catching a few loops on my “vintage avenue loop” then back on Adams for parts unknown, riding until either my legs, brain, or comon sense started to get he best of me. Then it was time to plot a course into DSM and to one of my favorite watering holes for a recovery drink (PBR Tallboys and Fireball) then point south on the GWT for my ten mile trek home to shower, eat some food, and bore my family with details of the ride. I do miss those days of simple, convenient gravel.
Today I live in Des Moines proper, South Side to be exact. It takes work to get out to my old Grinding Grounds, Adams being an 11 or so mile ride from my house. What? So I have to do the old ride home first now? Not a big deal, right? Well, it evidently is a big deal and has messed with my motivation on more than one occasion. Being able to look out my bedroom window to survey the gravel conditions, walking out to the mailbox and looking west down Adams, even mowing the enourmous lawn, were all just the preamble to leg and lung oblivion. Seing that road made me gravel horny. I would think to myself “just wait til I am done with _____, you dirty little road, I am ging to make you my bitch”. And now I am whining about riding a few miles to get in touch with my rocky romance.
I think this got me a little worked up, and I appreciate your time. It seems that I should quit writing and start riding…I mean Adams is only 11 miles away…