While the summer solstice hasn’t officially hit, the summer heat definitely has. And that means it’s time for a confession: I’ve skipped Throttle Therapy for two weeks now.
At first, I told myself I had reasons—valid ones, even. But let’s be honest. The truth is simpler and sweatier: I’m just avoiding the heat.
The mountain house has been occupied a lot lately, with the kids making good use of it. That leaves the wife and me chilling down at the valley house. And unlike the mountain house, where Throttle Therapy is as easy as throwing a leg over the bike and riding straight from the garage, the valley version is a full production.
Here’s the reality:
Pack. Load. Haul. Unload.
Ride.
Then reverse: Load. Haul. Unload. Unpack.
It’s an hour or two of overhead just to get a little dirt under the tires. And when it’s 95° outside with a garage hovering somewhere near pizza oven temps, even the idea of riding feels like too much work.
To make matters worse (or more convenient, depending on how you look at it), my truck’s been fully loaded with woodworking gear for the past couple of weeks. I’m supposed to move them up to the mountain house. That’s been my go-to excuse. “Can’t ride—I need the truck bed.”
Except… I have a hitch carrier. A perfectly good one. It’s there for exactly these situations.
And I keep telling myself, Fitness Junkie would be disappointed if I went riding without him. But let’s be real—Fitness Junkie hasn’t been around for Throttle Therapy in a while anyway.
So, to cut off the excuse factory at the knees, I made a stealth run up the mountain last night. Got up early, unloaded everything, and was back in the valley by noon.
I was tempted to sneak in a ride. I really was. But other responsibilities had dibs.
What I did do, though, was finally bring the mountain bike home on the return trip. And this afternoon, my daughter and I braved the 100-degree heat for a 12-mile ride.
Yes, even that involved packing, loading, hauling, and unloading. Followed, of course, by the reverse. So, yeah—it’s doable. Even in the heat.
So maybe next weekend, I stop the excuses and load the hitch carrier.
Maybe I grab the Husky, not the mountain bike.
Maybe I get a little dirt in the lungs and remember what Throttle Therapy is all about.
No promises. Just a confession… and a reminder to myself that it’s worth it.
