I will never be smart. But occasionally I am correct.
On Wednesday, I had been thinking about going for a run, but decided to gallop around Elena Gallegos Open Space on a cyclocross bike for 90 minutes or so because Thursday’s weather was looking iffy and I’d probably need to run then.
On Thursday, the weather was indeed iffy — as in raining — and I considered taking the day off entirely. But then I reconsidered and Herself and I went for a run, because Friday was shaping up to be even worse.
And now, here it is Friday, March 17, and it is snowing. From several directions at once, too.
Emboldened by a short streak of rightness, I announced with authority, “This almost never happens.”
And boom, just like that I was back to being not-smart. Also, wrong.
This is why we take notes. I glanced back through a half-dozen old training logs and found reports of March snow in 2019 and 2022, and as late as April 28 (2017 and 2021).
The forecast for St. Patrick’s Day — and for several days afterward — is for more of the same. I guess it’s a good thing I made a big pot of soup last night, because it sure doesn’t look like we’ll be getting a Paddy melt today.
It was still February yesterday, but I “marched” (har de har har) up from Trail 365 to the foot of the final climb to the Candelaria Bench Trail.
I considered finishing the ascent to the bench, but the wind was coming up, I hadn’t brought any water, and I didn’t feel like finding out what the descent was like these days; it’s been a while since I rock-hopped down the other side to the Hidden Valley Road trailhead.
Going down.
Today I had to get on two wheels, wind be damned. This morning I checked my mileage for this year and holy hell.
No, I won’t tell you the actual numbers. I will say that I had logged twice as many miles by this time last year. I haven’t screwed the pooch this badly since I broke my right ankle in 2020. People on spin bikes are covering more ground than I am.
So far I’ve managed to avoid the ER this year (knock on wood). Little victories, hey? Very little.
Can I call January-February the “off-season?” ’Cause I’m, like, way off.
Not exactly your atmospheric river or bomb cyclone, is it?
Water managers along the Colorado will not be tossing their Stetsons skyward and shouting “Huzzah!” over this casual squeeze from God’s bar towel.
Shuckens, it weren’t even cold. Anticipating a brisk north wind that never eventuated Herself and I were massively overdressed for yesterday’s run.
But we did meet a delightful Newfoundland puppy, about 8 months old and already the size of a black bear. So we got that going for us, which is nice.
Speaking of dogs and Canada, “Letterkenny” is back for its 11th season on Hulu and Apple TV. And if yous haven’t ever watched it, yous owe it to yourself. It’s preposterous, mildly perverse, and occasionally hysterical, and if yous need subtitles, well, clearly yous have never lived in Ontario like Your Humble Narrator, eh.
And if yous wonder where the headline came from, well …
The shoes say “Yes, yes, yes,” but the cold feet say “No.”
My old copy-desk comrade Hal Walter and I have a habit of carpet-bombing each other in the morning with news items hot off the digital press, guaranteed to elevate the heart rate.
This morning he hit me with a grim item about a cyclist bludgeoned to death by Florida Man, observing, “Cyclists piss people off for some reason.”
I fired back with some AAA advice for driving in winter weather, since Hal has to take his son Harrison up to Leadville today and snow is in the forecast.
Next, since the lads were doing a 14-mile run before leaving Weirdcliffe, I doubled down with a running mag’s top-10 tips for legging it in the cold — guidance that seemed heavy on the buying of various items.
And finally, for the coup de grâce, I tacked on a hastily freestyled top-10 list of my own, possibly because the wind was blowing about 666 mph here in The Duck! City and the going outside seemed contraindicated. Also, I may have been slightly overcaffeinated.
Dr. DogByte Sez: “Run Right Out and Buy Some Shit!”
Tip No. 1: Buy shit.
Tip No. 2: Buy more shit.
Tip No. 3: You know you can’t be happy without buying shit, so buy some more shit.
Tip No. 4: Buy some shit, then run around the corner to the coffee shop and buy some more shit there.
Tip No. 5: Buy some shit, then step outside, mumble, “Fuck me, it’s cold out here. I should really go back inside and buy some more shit.”
Tip No. 6: Buy some shit for your squeeze. Maybe your squeeze will then buy some shit for you, or even suggest taking your exercise indoors and under the covers, where it’s warm.
Tip No. 7: No, probably not. In fact, she’s out running. So while the cat’s away, you might as well just buy some shit for yourself.
Tip No. 8: Now that you’ve got the carpal tunnel from buying shit, you should probably schedule an appointment with a physical therapist. Which is kind of like buying shit, except you can’t brag about it while showing it to your friends.
Tip No. 9: So fuck that shit. You’d have to go outside, if only to get in the car. Better stay inside and buy some more shit, using your good hand.
Tip No. 10: That knock on the door? Not UPS. Collection agency. Looks like it’s time to run after all. If you don’t have a back door use a window. Think of it as parkour. We’ll have some tips for that if you make it back. With a viable credit card, of course.
Another round of visitors was en route and I had been instructed to deploy my mad posole skillz. The cooking is not difficult but does burn a bit of daylight, even with Herself handling the salad, cornbread, and ice cream. So instead of a refreshing bike ride we did a half hour of the old hep hoop hreep horp along the foothills trails.
I was not at the top of my game, with seasonal allergies using my snotlocker for a speed bag and the Worm Moon wiggling into my REM sleep the night before. I don’t like taking drugs that don’t make you see things that aren’t there, or vertical blinds that make you see things that are there.
Next time we need window treatments I’ll stay in the kitchen where I’m useful, maybe whip up a batch of posole for the installers. Either that or go for a run or ride, come home just in time to sign the check.
Mad Blog Media 