I am going to try my best to catch up on my blogging, if for no other reason than I want to. Reading this dross is up to you, typing it is up to me. The fact that either one of us takes the time to do either of those things baffles me.
Author Archives → soiledchamois
Lost For Time
I rode 47 miles of dirt roads and pavement today; it was swell. Then I showered, went for groceries, made dinner, did some laundry, took B to soccer practice (a half hour early of course to kick the ball around) and then met up with a friend of mine at a pub a couple blocks from home to chat over a few Duvels. All and all a pretty good Thursday.
Twenty Years & One Second
No, I’m not going to be sucked into another season of the uber-successful (by my low standards) blog post series: #Neffness, but I must admit that I’m finding it hard not to comment on Jolanda Neff’s victory at UCI XCO #1 in Nové Město, Czech Republic last weekend.
Workday Non Ride
My original plan for today was to go to the shop, work ’till 6 and get a couple of loops in on the Alma mountain bike trail after. Well, heavy rains last evening may have left the trail too soft for proper riding, so I ended up aborting.
Some late day reports said the trail was firm enough to ride, but by quitting time I had convinced myself otherwise and was content to just help myself to some carbon prep to aid the Superfly’s slipping seat post, work, and get home to see B-Man and Wifey.
I was also content to finally nab a pic of one of the buildings in the back alley of the shop. I wish I would have got it with one of my 35mm cameras (and still may) but for now was I am happy with what I got with my iPhone. Not sure why I get some enamoured with back alley shots, but I do.
Back and Backs
After Saturday’s shoe incident, in which I drove twenty-five minutes north to MMCC for a ride only to realize I forgot my shoes, I headed back on Sunday for another attempt.
It IS About the Shoes
Successful cycling, or at least ENJOYABLE cycling, is a about many things: fitness, diet, the bike and a foolhardy commitment to a sport that 99.225% (that stat is made up) of America doesn’t even recognize as an actual sport, and forces its participants to face varying degrees of mocking, hatred, violence and derision [MURICA!!].
What the racers, pundits, and gods of the cycling world fail to mention–to pretty everyone–is that sometimes, success or failure as a cyclist comes down to one thing and one thing only: the shoes.
The Dirt Squeeze
After spending 8.5 hours with my ass puckered on Wednesday, waiting to screw something up on my first day at the shop, I slept like a baby last night* : a six-foot one, 200+ pound, shaved legged, beer bellied, Morrissey haired, love handled, bike riding, wanker-like baby. Despite that lengthy, yet still abbreviated, list of my handicaps, it still managed to feel great.
Ouch, New Stuff
After squeezing in a 37 mile dirt road/road ride on Monday, I THOUGHT I knew what Tuesday would bring: time in a dentist chair getting two cavities filled and a crown mold formed. What I didn’t know is just how much pain I would endure during the procedure and/or how long I would be in said dentist chair getting the procedure done. It turns out that it was two hours of non-working novocaine, copious amounts of puckered butt sweat, armpit sweat, saliva dripping, and burning dental drills–pretty fucking miserable!
Blown
I usually reserve Mondays for getting the biggest chunk of shit I hate to do out of the way, and I did do a bunch of that stuff today, but since I didn’t ride yesterday, Tuesday has a inconveniently timed mid-day dental appointment and Wednesday has me actually going to work some hours, I figured I’d better get out today just in case.
Forgotten & Lost
I’m not sure why, but the past few days and the weekend have been a bit of a blur. As predicted, most of Friday was a soggy mess. So I took the time to head down to Terry’s in Alma to swap out some brake pads on the Superfly.