Forgive me, Mother, for I’m about to break one of the rules upon which you raised me: If you have nothing nice to say, then stuff it, son. Well, I can’t stuff this anymore. Momma said there’d be days like this. The Shirelles, 1961 What’s snagged me like a cocklebur to the chamois was this … More A Calendar Conflict

On what (I pray) is the coldest day of the year, it feels good to look ahead to spring and the gravel racing to come. It may be frigid, but races are around the corner. Now’s the time for health checks. How are our legs weathering the off-season? And what’s the broader state of health … More Gravel’s Upset Belly