Emily being gansta as always.
I didn't really expect to be able to mountain bike this week. We had passed the threshold of three days with temperatures staying above freezing at night, but there had been rain showers on Sunday and Tuesday and more are expected for the next five days or so. However, when I saw that the forecast of 60 with afternoon rain was really going to be 70 and sunny, I consulted the HMBA message board, hoping that Gnawbonelefty, the trail condition oracle of Brown County, would confirm my suspicions that the trails were drying faster than expected. I received my confirmation, along with instructions to poke any "puddle blisters" that I might see, and that was that.
After work, Emily and I rushed BCSP, since as nice as the weather was, the daylight was still limited. We got about a hour and twenty minutes in before dark, and I got acquainted with my new bike. I would like to say that I felt some magical floating difference, like the big wheels came equipped with their own locomotive power, but it felt hard like the first ride of the year always does. It was awesome, though.
The title is a bit punny because of Jason's "hay in the barn" saying. I probably would have made more of that kind of hay if I'd stayed home and done my assigned threshold bursts workout, but when conditions allow mountain biking in March, they must be taken advantage of immediately. Besides, this weekend is going to be one last crazy haybarn stuffing party before the OC, where I have hard intervals with 6 hours total ride time on Saturday and a full road century on Sunday. That's friggin' lot of hay, but among all of those road riding bales from the winter, I will now one special bale of grade A alfalfa to cherish when I arrive in Arkansas in a couple of weeks.