Mongo had a great weekend of cycling. I was able to get out there three straight days in a row and put in some serious, and well needed, miles. It's kind of a shame that I'm on my best form of the year and the season is almost over. I'm really going to try and carry my form through the Fall and Winter this year, and if I can refrain from gaining my usual twenty pounds of blubber, Mongo should be able to start 2010 ahead of the game.
Today's ride was intended to be a forty mile, medium paced, recovery ride. Yesterday, Mongo put in big miles and effort, so I just wanted to keep the pistons loose before I layed off the bike for the next couple of days.
All went well most of the day, but Mongo was dealing with big holiday crowds on the Silver Comet Trail. Cyclists, runners, walkers, baby strollers, and rollerbladers, all had to be navigated. I wasn't seriously challenged by anyone capable or worthy of a smackdown...but my most feisty opponent was a stocky chick on a Felt with TT bars, flat pedals with toe clips, and running shoes. "It ain't the arrow, it's the Indian."
Literally, in the final few hundred meters of my ride, I passed a dude on rollerblades who was all over the trail and oblivious to what was going on around him because of what was probably club/techno music cranking through his earphones.(If you know what I mean?)
And when I say I passed this guy, what I actually meant was that I almost ran him off the trail when I squeezed between him and oncoming traffic after I said "on the left" at least three times without a response. Oh...and I also bumped him with my shoulder, by accident, for good measure.
Below is an artist's rendering of Mongo approaching the rollerblader.
Of course, I looked back to see if I had caused any carnage...and when I saw none, I finished my ride. As I rolled through the parking lot, I saw an old(literally) cycling buddy who also happens to be the father of one of my neighbors...so I stopped to talk to him. About three minutes into the conversation, out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr/Ms Rollerblader rollin' up on me and my friend.
Let's just say that there was a heated verbal exchange...the likes and words of which my seventy plus year old friend has probably never heard. To Mongo's credit, the crowd that steadily grew around us did seem to think that my profanity-laced diatribe was much funnier and wittier than the other guy's.
It all ended with a simple "Fuck you" and "Asshole"... and then the crowd dispersed and Mongo went home. I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.
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