Sometimes you need to repeat a mistake every so often, just to remind yourself that it is in fact a bad idea.

This past weekend, I learned, again, that mountain biking this early in the season after a hard winter just isn’t all that much fun. I suppose I’m just a big wuss, but I like when I can wiggle (and feel) my toes.

I headed out to Federal Hill, both to see a friend and with the retrospectively ridiculous notion that it might be just a bit drier up there (water runs downhill, right?).

There were long sections, even on the power lines, with lots of snow and ice still. The parts that are usually pretty dry were drenched and muddy, and the wet parts were knee deep or worse. Yes, OK, I’m a big cry baby, but I just may stick to the roads for another couple of weeks. Even the paved rail trail, as recently as Saturday, was all iced over through Dunstable, where the snowmobiles had packed it down all winter.

On the bright side, my new bike rocks. It’s my first dual suspension, and I got the sag all set up the day before I took it out. It seems to work great but so far the biggest thrill is being able to lock out the front fork on the fly; that helps on hill climbs. More about the ride once I get the chance to thrash it properly.