As you can see from above, it was a strenuous day. MW is doing crunches while I try and figure out how to unbeach myself like an orca trapped in a fjord in Norway.

Blade, Bleedy, Tulip, MW and myself met up at Laurel Hill for a traditional mellow ride. Unfortunately for me, it was an exceptionally mellow ride. I had nothing today. Nada. I have had a fair amount of time off the bike this year and that certainly hasn’t helped.

In this case, my lack of fitness lead to something of a first. As I sat peacefully, enjoying the sunshine and waiting for the rest of the posse to do an extra loop, a rider came by. He asked if I was doing okay and then said “You guys are the Log Posse. I recognized you and your other riders.”

I first apologized profusely for him having to read our drivel and then felt thoroughly embarrassed think back on what awful stories this innocent web surfer may have been subjected to.

Neil (the guys name) was very nice. We talked for sometime, about bikes, trails, MORE, IMBA, people we both knew, hell, even bass fishing… He has done a bunch of trail work and we have him to thank for a lot of the places we like to ride.

And so, we have crossed into a new era. What was once a crumbling shack on a forgotten neighborhood street, is now a cute little bungalow on a up and coming thoroughfare.

-fatty

Bikes.

Trees.

Dirt.

Blood.

Boom!

Yeah!

Whoop!

Momentum is your friend.

Just gimme that Christian side-hug!

Wooly bear.

Medium-rare portobello.

6 coat hooks?

Rainbow.