Excuses, excuses, excuses.... and DOGS.

So, managing  my lifestyle... which is like fugitive meets traveling salesman.... and getting regular workouts and blog posts accomplished can be difficult.  OK, no one said it would be easy.  I missed a few workouts in Dallas last week.  My job and the weather conspired against me!! I swear!  No, in all honesty, no matter how stoic I am, unless I am in a competition there is no point in being grossly under dressed for your workout.  Being from South Florida, my workout clothes are limited to "it's really fuckin' hot", "it's kind of fuckin' hot", "it's hot" and "it dropped below 80 but that is why I have one long sleeved cycling jersey hot".  The thirties to forties and raining that I encountered in Dallas were like the eighth layer of Hell.  So I did what any die-hard wannabe triathlete would do after a long night of working in the weather... I pussed up and crawled into bed!  Hey, I make no apologies here.  Rain, wind, whatever... but temperatures below 65 are toxic to me and I never claimed to be a hero!  You could dangle a gold medal or million dollar prize in front of me and I would probably stay under the covers and throw a shoe at you.

At the end of the week, I was feeling pretty froggy and decided to take a nice bike ride before I headed to Houston.  I had been eyeing the shoulder of rt. 110 all week and it looked like a beautiful ride with gorgeous scenery, rolling hills and autumn colors.  Totally idyllic, enough to temp even the coldest, laziest soul.   That is the fantasy.  The reality went more like this.  I rode out and discovered a few things about Texas roadways. 

One, they apparently pave over mass graves.  The surface rippled so badly, I could barely control the front end of the bike.  They use fist sized boulders instead of little pebbles in the asphalt mix.  By the end of the ride I am fairly sure all of my fillings had been rattled loose.  They also do not feel the need to actually pave the entire overpass.  There was a gap between the plates bigger than my thigh.  I just rolled over it and prayed.  (Prayer works, apparently, because I did not get swallowed up by the Grand Crevice.)  I would write to the appropriate government office, but really, I think they are pretty happy with discouraging cyclists... keep reading.

Two, those beautiful winding roads are full of scary, bristly, gun-toting people in smoke-spewing diesel pickups that either whistle or cuss you out as they try to run you off the road.  The sheriff drives a big diesel pickup too, but he honks instead of vocalizing his displeasure at having to yield a few feet of his road to a cyclist. 

Three, Texans have lots and lots and lots of dogs.  Angry dogs that run in packs.  They also do not believe in fencing or leases.  I am alive today because I peddle REALLY fast when I am scared out of my mind!  Well, my coach had wanted me to do two thirds of that ride fast, I am pretty sure I accomplished that goal.

Yah.  Okay.  Plan B, don't ride on 110... ever again.