Tag Archives | dirt road life

Who Dis?

My excuses are longer than a porn star’s manhood. My slack is stronger than a pre-castrated bull. And my waistline’s girth and body weight are that of a Mart-Cart fatty with a basket full of Ding Dongs and Mountain Dew.

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Bizness

This past week was another busy one: There was time working in the shop, time shuttling B (and other neighborhood teammates) to soccer scrimmages and conditioning sessions, mind bender appointments, bike sales (goodbye Fatterson), family duties, house duties, a wedding anniversary (our 22nd), a birthday (my 48th), and some dirt road riding.

I won’t try to recap the week. It wasn’t that interesting, and I don’t have enough 48-year-old brain cells left to attempt to make it so. Instead, I will post some pics, say I’m mentally feeling good, physically looking like a walking sack of SPAM, and hoping for another week of riding, pedaling for pixels.

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Being a Gimp

When I say “gimp” I am not referring to how I feel due to the laundry list of health issues I have that include: shit hearing in one ear, tendonitis in my right elbow, worsening arthritis in my left thumb joint, edema in my legs, degenerative arthritis in my lower back, a history of DVTs in my legs, plantar fasciitis in my left heel, ongoing depression, and 50+ pounds of weight gain.

I’m of course referring to being the Shop Gimp.

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