on asses grown in molasses

an ode to meaty seaties

Another week, another long ride.

Sunday is the Resuwrection ride. 100 miles of gravel and bullshit.

Today was the last ‘long ride’ in preparation for the first in our series of mammoth rides.

A hundred mile ride is also known as a century.

It’s a bit of a big deal - riding your first century.

Most people do this on pavement.

Zeke?

He’s a bit of a troll himself, taking us on brutal, punishing routes.

The Resuwrection ride is no exception.

Today was a fine sample of what’s in store for the bunch of us on Sunday.

It started out on the pipeline route. Riding up hill and into the wind over a road bed rough enough to shake your fillings from your head. Six inch stone popps up where the gravel and dirt has been worn away. It’s ten kilometers of jaw clenching joy.

From there, there’s a bit of road, then more of the natural gas pipeline followed by a bit more road.

Then?

Then things today got wet and muddy. After thirty five kilometers that we floated through in two hours, over the next two we travelled ten. The trail was either small icy knee deep ponds or the mud equivalent of cold molasses.

Those sections proved that the old saying Rides in molasses give you sore asses is the god’s truth. Sore asses. Bubble butt asses. Nice round hard asses.

(BTW my osteopath upon lifting up one of my legs lately said Oh, oh my. This is heaver than I remembered. It’s down right meaty)

These days, it’s not just the legs. I’ve grown meaty in my seatie.

(which is lucky for my sweetie that I have a butt hard as concreetee)

Did I mention that I’m cute?

Anyway dear reader, though I do like to digress and discuss the wonders of my butt, that was not the point of this post.

The point is that Zeke too is a troll.

When I express exhaustion, he reminds me of how much further and harder the next ride will be.

What’s worse?

He’s been ending all of our rides lately with a maximum effort sprint up a steep hill before gliding down to end at his place.

He knows it hurts me.

He knows I’m on the verge of collapse.

And he adds it to every ride.

He’s such a prick. I love it. It’s inspiring how after pushing myself beyond what I think possible, Zeke extends my comfort zone. When it comes to trolling, he’s a natural.

Oh sure, I could just go straight and slow and wind up back at his place - maybe even beat him there.

But where’s the fun in that?

We have an agreement.

He plans routes that hurt me and I agree to go ride till it hurts.

And as a troll like him?

I’m grateful.

Love the people who love you

And like the Mary Ellen Carter?

Rise again you dirty perverts.