The ending of the 2019 cycling season

Last year I had some kind of weird feeling. i had transitioned from jobs September first. My job at the bike shope was an easy 1 commute. That did not stop me from getting lazy and making it to work with minutes to spare. On September 1st I started my new job and it was 10 miles away! Instead of 10 am start time was at 7! My body literally went into shock. 
I did get organized and figured 5:15 was a good wake up time and I would roll out the house before 6am and make it on time. I rode all days of the month of Sept, Oct, Nov and december. I had put it into my head that a 6k season was possible. I took rides on the weekend and then Danger Dave told me I should shoot for 7k. 
It was a bit of a stretch but I said "what the heck?". I rolled every day and was feeling great. On the weekends I kept my 515 am schedule and would be rolling on my fixed gear into Chicago. At that time everything was quiet. The Mexican bakeries were open and the laundromats. The air was crisp and more often than not the elusive sun was out. 
I had this yearning to explore a bunch of places I had in mind for years. 
I checked each one off my list as if it was my last chance. I connected roads and places using Google Maps. I got thrills accomplishing the places on my bucket list. Then December came and the calculations were starting to become impossible. I rode and rode and the 7k was not getting there. Why was I doing this? It certainly was not a Strava challenge but a personal one. I wanted to push myself like the old days. 
I wanted to get "something" done, a goal, a milestone. December 31st rolled around and I had 78 miles to go. It was snowing and cold. I literally lost all hope. My wife needed to go get a medical procedure done around the middle of the day. "Go ride" she said. But be home by 11 am. Without any hesitation I suited up and grabbed my Salsa Blackborow 5" fat bike. I had some hope but the time was not enough. 
I rolled back at 11 with 38 miles on the fatty. 40 to go. 40 measly miles that I could have done earlier. 40 of the 80 miles that my garmin ate up during the year. I was a bit dissapointed but dealt with it. The procedure was over and we rolled back home where wifey settled into bed to sleep off the anestesia. Why don't you go finish your miles, she said. 
I knew she understood my dilema and I was out the door on that fat bike within minutes. It got colder and I took a backpack with some extra supplies. I ended up getting soaked and cold from sweat. I stopped at a goodwill and picked up a fleece sweater and scarf for 6 dollars. I took the wet layer and carried it in backpack. It got dark out and I switched on the lights. 
Mile after mile the 40 mark did not come. Then all of a sudden it happened. I roared into the cold air as I had accomplished my goal. The 7k mark was mine to keep. I rolled home, showered and celebrated later with my wife and daughter. It was a great ending to 2019 and we were so looking foward to 2020. My body ached but it felt good. My trusty Blackborow had carried me 78 miles on the last day of 2019. I will probably never forget that for a long time. 
I got the congratulations from Danger Dave. He had secretly been out there in the cold and darkness conquering his own demons. 
thanks for reading. 
Ari 

Found photo. Left to right. T.J,Cookie, Ari and Gumby. 5 spoke wheel bike is not ours, unfortunately. 

Winter Riding with the Slender Fungus founder Hellmut Kost

My Winter riding/Trans Iowa training partner Hellmut. He gave us our name. Slender Fungus. 

Many a miles of bad weather logged with Hellmut

We froze, a lot and would take breaks to drink whiskey and get feeling in our limbs. 

Before Fat bikes we rode 26ers with Studded Nokian Tires. 

Gumby would join us on our excursions. His trusty Scwhinn always there. 

We rode late into the night. Custom made light by Dennis Grelk. 

Here we rode from 10 pm until sunrise the next morning. Jamie greeted us at 8 am with Pizza and beer. Hellmut looks exhausted. We rode 105 miles thru the night. My new Salsa La Cruz 

Probably the only person I would have build my bike. Jay Barre building my new La Cruz. He now owns You Bet ! bike shop. 

On our thru the night ride we chatted with this nice officer in St Charles, IL. at the 7/11

Hellmut on his trusty Gary Fisher 26er. With studded tires.

As I have so much time I have been cleaning and finding some gems for images. I have just been taking a lot of photos for many years and promised myself I was going to organize them when I would retire. Well, not retired but this stay at home thingy is pretty much a trailer for what is coming in the future. 

I spent a lot of time with Hellmut. His real name is Russell Stewart. He told us how he had visited his grandfather a very long time ago and used to play with a helmet that his grandpa had brought over from Nazi germany. That's where Russ's name changed to Hellmut with a double LL, and he took over his grandpa's last name Kost. Hellmut Kost.  

That dude never spoke a word. We would ride for 5-6-7-12 hours together and he never said a word. He would just tolerate hour after hour of Ari Monologue and keep riding. Sometimes I would get really frustrated with him and say: "Hey Hellmut" ""What?"" "Fuck You" ""Fuck you Ari"" would be his response. Then we would continue to ride in silence. We eventually found out about Mp3 players. 

We both got them and listened to music while we rode and ignored eachother even more. 

Hellmut is also responsible for naming our group Slender Fungus. He blurted that out in the middle of the night in a very rare tone of voice. "We should be the Slender Fungus", he said. Nothing more. 

We needed eachothers company. It was the only way to stay safe out in the middle of nowhere,in the middle of the night. A lot of the rides started from my house after we had a hearty pasta dinner and a couple of Bells Expedition Stouts. Jamie would feed us and send us on our way. We typically came back around 1-2 am and always made it to work by 10 am. There are so many stories with Hellmut. 

As we sit here and wonder a lot of things it is nice to have the time and peace to recount some past events. I cherish those moments and have no regrets. It is hard for me to put them down in words since English is not my first language. Lots of small details that are valuable but would take up so much time. Thanks for reading and my hat off to you Hellmut. 

Ari 

The lonely Slender Fungus Rider

The same moon we looked at 

Nothing but darkness 

Gumby's Mariachi

The night calls the Slender Fungus. It was many moons ago that we had and amazing group of riders that delved in the night. Turbo Tuesdays would not start until 9:00 p.m.! Can you imagine trying to convince someone to get out at that time? "You'll get run over!", would be their answer. 

But the reality is that there is nobody out there, specially during the week. That is the prime time we rode. Rides would go on until about 1am and then we got home and crashed hard. Making it to work the next day was a bit hard but solved with lots of coffee and doughnuts. 

The nights with my gang were magical. We got to chat and tell stories, we enjoyed eachothers company. The miles flowed easily without ever seeing any numbers on our dark cyclometers. 

So now, with everyone gone, we get out alone, with the hopes of finding someone. 

We need to do this again. It was too good. 

Turbo Tuesdays, we miss you. 

thanks to Gumby for the photos. 

Ari