I hate myself. Not for all my normal reasons but because the very first thing I thought of when I saw this photo of Francesco Moser wasn’t about him, his bike, the race he was doing or the Cheshire Cat shit eating grin the dude in the car is sporting… it was that the font used for the sponsor’s name on the team car is Bodoni Poster Italic. Not a huge fan… Unless I’m doing some 70s looking project, then it’s pretty darn cool. I on the other hand am just an idiot.
Gravel circa 1994 – 26″ wheeled mountain bike and hip pack (not being used for Enduro™) included.
Sometimes you gotta watch some suffering to get in the mood. Case in point, Stage 14 of the 1988 Giro d’Italia, Passo di Gavia.
The above photo pretty much sums up my Tuesday.
I have been trying to talk less and less about “me”, ’cause let’s face it, I am not that interesting and sort of an imbecilic train wreck. BUT I am going to do so today for some reason. Sorry.
Apparently motor-paced racing was all the rage back in the early 20th century. I’ve seen a few photos from races here and there, but this one has to be one of my favorites. I’m not sure which subject I find more interesting and/or odd; the 10-year-old kid in his underwear, racing a bike with 14 inch wheels or the steely eyed, leather clad, Oliver Hardy looking motorcyclist who appears to be on his way to a Judas Priest concert as he straddles the fuselage like it’s a giant, metal phallus.
It’s been said that racers could get up to 60 miles per hour, I’m not sure how fast this little dude was going, but I am certain he would have kicked my ass.
Now cue up the song below and imagine Oliver singing it.
There are days when I do “stuff” and days when I don’t. Then there are days that I don’t do anything but my freaking nine-year old son says “Dad, I’m bored and haven’t had soccer in a week, can I get on the treadmill to get some running in?” Then there are days that I don’t do anything, but my nine-year old gets on the treadmill and proceeds to run two miles at speeds of 4 to 6 mph, while I fold clothes, and notice that he didn’t break a sweat ’till he started mile two, and at times was having a full conversation with me while he ran.
The “wet season” continues here in mid-Michigan with rain almost every day for the past week, including a brief shower this morning before the sun came out, but other than some wet leaves and a slick root or two you would not have known it from today’s ride. The soil at MMCC sucks up rain harder than a Vegas hooker sucks up… Rain?
After two days of muddy dirt roads I had no desire to get back on them today. I thought about going to MMCC to ride but I’m a bit burned out on those trails and then got caught up in some stuff. By “stuff” I of course mean that I wasted my morning watching three Premiere League matches and lost motivation to ride. If I would have rode, it would have been a quick one and it would looked a bit like the piss-poor photo above and its lagging shutter speed.
I did get on the treadmill for 50 minutes of walking/running/semi-sprinting/belly flopping/bag slapping. Running is getting SLIGHTLY easier and I am hoping to take that shit show outside in the coming weeks (under the cover of darkness of course). Still more work to do though.
This is my personal recipe for a vodka on the rocks and a good time.
Pseudo hashtag-a-go-go: eddy, cannibal juice, pipes, chops, burns, legend, mineral water chug contest, sponsor gawker, eddy don’t use no hashtags, no photo of post-chug cannibal belch
Photo originally found at fabbricadellabici.com
Monkeyed with by me to get vintage newspaper feel I wanted.
Beverage provided by Perrier
