a fools guide to better planning

or what happens when reality hits you in the nuts

Dear reader, tell me about your relationship with plans - do you make em’?

Stick to them?

You do?

Cute.

I had a plan for yesterdays post. It was hijacked by Mr. Rourke and Tattoo.

After that, things got wierd.

I had a plan for today.

200 miles of idiotic bullshit on a bicycle stretched over 36 hours.

On the May 2-4 weekend - the weekend we commonwealthies like to celebrate the celibate queen vicky, I attempted to ride about 210 miles in 24 hours.

Sure the timeline was shorter, but the rolling conditions were pretty smooth. Combine this with a fair bit of time passing through civilization for things like food and water and this ride was somewhat achievable.

It was somewhat achievable but I came up about twenty five kilometers short. I got bailed out, saved along the way.

The demon ride that was planned today had neither resupply points nor convenient places to be bailed out.

Given the fact that I wasn’t able to complete the game in causal mode, Zeke decided that we’d better scrap the idea of turning things up to eleven and attempting an epic ride at the expert level of difficulty.

The biggest problem?

Our plan didn’t have enough planning.

We needed to figure out where we’d get support - places to resupply ourselves with water and starches and peruvian marching powder (ok, so no marching powder but some sort of magic pixie dust would likely be helpful)

This time the planned abandonment of the plan wasn’t due to distraction. Instead?

Reality crept in.

I’m really glad it did.

Yesterday we went out on a scouting mission and rode a bit of the trail that I had never been on before.

It rough. It made my arse feel like what I imagine a new inmate with no friends and soft hands would experience on his first day in jail. Bring that pretty mouth over here boy…

I mean, I hit my nuts so hard a couple times I was worried that I’d have to change my pronouns. Some say that men think with their cocks? Well, this trail was so bumpy, my gonads took up residence between my ears. It likely raised my IQ by several points.

So the point of this?

Sometimes, it pays to do your homework.

I now have a better idea of what I’m getting into and this will inform a lot of other choices.

And?

It made me feel more at ease with calling off the ride, of abandoning the plan.

I’m not ready for the kind of insanity that we have in mind.

Well.

I’m not ready yet.

Once I get some more time in the saddle and my balls drop back down to where they belong, Zeke and I can focus on setting ourselves up to slay this demon of a ride.

Until then?

I’m singing soprano.

Maybe the best plans need a bit less planning and more painful truth.

Or maybe I’m thinking with my testicles.

Either way?

When you know, you know.

Stay bouncy your nutsacks.

a view from the trail…