Are we going about this whole “new year” thing wrong?
Maybe the new year should kick off with the spring equinox. New life in the offing, and better weather to keep it comfy-cozy.
We were already into the 50s here last March 20. Zach at Two Wheel Drive had found me a Deore derailleur for the as-yet-unbuilt Soma Pescadero, and I went out for a short trail run to celebrate. The next day I was burning up the Elena Gallegos trails on my old red Steelman Eurocross while TWD assembled my new whip. Talk about your bowl of cherries.
January is usually a bowl of something else altogether. The month is named for the Roman deity Janus, god of change, passages, and beginnings: “Better beef up your kit before you head out that door to start your run, Mr. Not-So-Smarticus. Add a base layer, maybe a jacket and cap, looks like rain.”
When I revisit January in old training diaries I see a lot of short runs in frosty temps. Which is fine, as far as it goes, which is not very. And I’ll probably be doing one of those directly, as we seem to be getting sloppy seconds from the ongoing deluge in California. Just because I have fenders doesn’t mean I want to use them. I like my January showers warm, with the bathroom door closed and a space heater on.
But it’s gonna be extra hard to drag my ass out that door this Jan. 1. El Rancho Pendejo smells like simmering black-eyed peas and ham hock, with baking cornbread soon to lend an aromatic hand, and it’s a good thing I have more than a few keyboards around here because I keep drooling into this one.
Happy New Year to one and all.
• Addendum: The cooking process is greatly enhanced by playing “The Allman Brothers Band: A Decade of Hits 1969-1979” throughout.
Mad Blog Media 
May 2026 be an improvement over ’25. That’s all I ask.
I hear ya, bruh. Just about anything would be an impro … no, I take that back. Don’t want to give Piggy and his swineherds any encouragement.
Doin’ the Hoppin’ John’s w/cornbread here! Maybe a brewski too! Best to all for a safe, healthy, and joyous 2026!
Back atcha, JD. Herself just added a batch of almond cookies to the menu. Pray for me and my waistline.
Or maybe one should go out and do another 5k to offset the input of those cookie calories.
I always liked running in the rain. Cleaning and drying the clothes and shoes is a lot easier then cleaning up a trusty road splattered bike.
Bon ape’trot
O, yeah, a post-run cleanup is a breeze. I used to keep a sack of quarters in the truck for hitting the car wash after a filthy cyclocross. Wash both bikes and my kit. The Boss caught me washing a bike in the shower once and after that it was either divorce or the car wash for me.
?? Happy New Year to you and Shannon
May this new year be filled with happiness, prosperity, and many precious moments with your loved ones
Michael & Michele
And the same to thee and thine, my good man.
Happy New Year! We need to get at least a modicum of entertainment out of 2026. Obsessively reading and re-reading PO’G’s blog will only get us so far. I’ve been seeing expressions on the socials like “Well, I didn’t have that on my bingo card…”, and so I’m concocting a real one. I am looking for suggestions. A few examples of what I have so far: “There will be at least two federal government shutdowns”, and “At least one Supreme Court justice will leave office (death, resignation, impeachment, whatever)”, “Marjorie Taylor Greene will announce her candidacy for the Georgia Senate seat”. I need about seven more to complete the traditional five by five grid, and they need to be verifiable concrete black-and-white occurrences, so no “Trump gets even crazier” kind of statements. Plus, the more I get, the more variety of bingo cards I can produce. And I am happy to share with Patrick when complete, for sharing with the rest of you. We’re just starting to slide into the mid-terms. What kind of crazy shit could happen?
New Years is such an artificial holiday.
I always thought the moving it to the springtime made more sense. He in So-Wisc, it’s just a cold, sloppy mess. I get it, it’s summertime in the southern hemisphere, but here it sux. Plus we have Turkey Day with Xmas close on its heels, then NYear and that’s it ‘til Easter, or Memorial Day.
I propose April First. Spring here, lovely Autumn for the Aussies and Peruvians.
As a plus, partying hearty on April Fool’s Day seems like a lovely ironic bonus.
We are slaves to the clock and the calendar, even though we’re in charge of setting both up.
People don’t like the daylight savings time transitions, but nobody wants to take a lead and change their business hours so they’re not driving in the dark.
As soon as we had kids, I realized that a pediatrician or kids’ dentist who was closed, let’s say Tuesday and Wednesday, but open on the weekends, would totally clean up.
“Live long and prosper.”
Maybe the space force can bring us some Vulcans to run this shit show.
Got Hoppin’ John queued up for my birthday but we’re guests (more like indentured servants) for the next few days, helping M’s mom figure out her new life as a farmsteader flying solo. So the menus for the rest of the weekend feature roasted beast, lots of bread, and the side-dish two-step where they try to convince me jello is a salad.
I’m telling you, getting old isn’t for sillies.
Here’s hoping Twenty Twenty-Six decides to go easy on us.
Thank you, all of you Dear Readers and of course our always reliable host, for helping me hold on to what’s left of my sanity.
You know you’re in Nebraska when you say, “It’s 45 outside,” and they reply, “Miles per hour?”