five words to folly

how hard could it be?

What five words cause men the most trouble?

How hard could it be?

Five words. That’s it.

They express the peak of folly - optimism, overconfidence and underestimation all wrapped up in an eggshell of impulsiveness.

Nothing good comes from beginning a task with the phrase how hard could it be, and yet, that’s how I began my ride on Sunday

It was only a hundred kilometers. I’d ridden much further in both April and May

How hard could it be?

There were six of us on the ride. Camaraderie! Support!

How hard could it be?

I knew the route - sure we were doing it ‘backwards but I knew the area

How hard could it be?

I was riding my favorite bike with a brand new derailleur and shifter - THE XT MODEL!

How hard could it be?

Well lemmie tell ya dear reader, it was hard. Much harder than I anticipated.

Sure it was only a hundred kilometers - but those other rides? They were mostly flat and smooth. Given the rocks and baby heads on this ride the hills were covered in hills.

Sure there were downhill sections but they gave little relief.

At the bottom of every there was a puddle. Well not so much a puddle but a muddy lake spiked with mystery rocks. In order not to die we had to brake hard then navigate the puddle.

We were constantly bleeding off speed. Instead of gaining a sense of momentum and liberation after flying down a hill, it was a day of nomentum. Nomomentum and no coasting. We worked for every inch.

As for th pack of six?

Four of us were under forty and one of us used to race for the provincial team.

Then there was me.

They were kind. They waited for me.

Each time they waited they would rest for a couple of minutes. Once I caught up, they were rested, recovered and ready to go, so off we’d go. The deficit that I began with only increased.

As for the route?

Things look different backwards. With just over twenty kilometers to go, I got sidetracked down a seldom used road as they sped off ahead. Separated from the pack I chose the road less traveled, got half way down and noticed that they had not been down that way.

On that grassey road I panicked and turned back. As I did, a bobcat popped out in front of me. I screamed, it lept then I pedaled as if my life depended on it. Sure the creature probably wouldnt’ fuck with me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

This little diversion cost m over 15 minutes of riding.

So then there was the bike - my favorite bike. It was 8-12 lbs heavier than any of theirs. I was a lot of work pedaling that lump up all of those hills. How hard could it be? In reality, much harder than I anticipated.

Then?

The sunglasses that I didn’t buy became an issue.

No. It wasn’t that bright.

I caught a twig in myeball.

It put me in shock. I struggled and flailed but eventually made it home.

And to think how difficult the ride already was with my heavy bike getting lost while trying to keep up at a murderous pace, riding like a cyclops with no depth perception only made things worse.

So how hard could anything be?

Much more difficult and painful than you could ever imagine.

(and that’s just what makes stuff like this so great.

And if that dear reader isn’t a foolish take, then I’m a Stetson hat with a penis.

Stay weirld you goofs!