Mush

I participated in a nice group ride today, one of the biggest yet as well. There were eight of us and we were stoked. At about +5F it was the warmest ride in a couple weeks for all of us. The opening section of trail was beautiful, I dare say I shredded it and felt fine about it. That was about the end of all the good parts for me.

When we reached the main trail, we found that it had recently been groomed. It probably would have been great on a set of skis. Of course, none of us were skiing. We were cycling in an inch and a half of medium pack that washed out at will and left everyone squirrely all over the trail. Our group quickly deteriorated into a Pugsley out front, followed by all the lighter folks, a couple of medium folks and the heaviest folks in the back. I guess I fell somewhere in the middle for the first part of the ride. The last half I brought up the rear and seemed destined to crash every hundred yards or so.

The warm weather was good, because I was covered in crash snow for a good portion of the ride. When I finally got back to the beginning of the loop (the good section again) I was totally determined to shred it again and end on a good note. Instead I think I cut my crash distance down to about every fifty yards or so.

The strange thing about all this is that for the life of me, I can't determine why I know I would do it all again. I guess rides are like pizza.