Thursday, April 13, 2017

You Know You're Old When . . .

In late November my coworker Rob retired. His love for the fanny pack was always a source of playful jabs, and also more than a little mystery. We always wondered: "What the hell is in that thing?"

As a tribute to Rob we all decided to dress in his likeness for the retirement sendoff—convertible pants, beer/wolf T-shirts and fanny packs. Javi picked up a bunch of fanny packs at the auction for seven bucks each and we were in business.


After the party I threw the pack in a corner and forgot about it. I had no intention of ever using it because, well, fanny packs are for old guys.

One day I prepared for a ride and realized the laundry situation was a little grim. Typically for local rides I use a traditional three-pocket road jersey to carry all my crap. I had nothing but baggy mountain bike jerseys and therefore no cargo capacity. I was only going out for an hour or so, and a hydration pack would have been overkill, especially on that cool day. Looking in the corner I saw the fanny pack. I sighed and thought, what the hell.

I used it for that ride and had to admit it was pretty awesome. I don't especially like wearing tight-fitting road jerseys anymore, so having the ability to wear a baggy jersey and still carry my phone, tools and keys comfortably was great. As a bonus, I could barely tell it was there.

My only issues with that particular pack were the zippers rattling together (noises drive me insane) and the narrow belt. I thought a wider belt might be more comfortable and stable.

I found this Dakine pack and thought it fit the bill.


It's comfortable, has a separate pocket for my phone, doesn't rattle, and even has an extendable pocket for a spare water bottle. And best of all, it has a tag on it that says "this is a legit mountain bike product," which makes me feel a little less dorky. But just a little.

Later.

Thursday, April 06, 2017

Faster

Yesterday I rode home from work again, but this week was a bit different. Last week I finished and told myself, You're old, fat, slow, and nobody likes you.

Last night I rolled up the driveway and had a Stuart moment:



"I'm thin enough, I'm fast enough, and doggone it people like me."

I finished in 3:04, shaving a full 24 minutes off my time from the previous week. I am in no way under the misconception that my fitness has increased that much in one week. As I have mentioned numerous times before, sometimes you just have good legs.

Here are a few pictures:




Next week, weather permitting, my time will likely be closer to 3.5 hours and I can go back to hating myself again.

Later.