Sculpture by Mu Boyan. Photo: Aye Gallery
Today I’m making a super quick drive home to western PA for some real life family stuff. Riding and general blog mischief is on hold until Friday and/or the weekend.
Until then enjoy looking at these cool ass sculptures of naked fat people by Mu Boyan. I think I could pose for him given my current fitness.
Later.
With the (family) unit out-of-town for a couple of days one would think that I would proceed to live the life of the rake, roustabout and debt ridden drunken mess that I am (not really). Not so surprisingly, the opposite has been true.
Lord, fashion father almighty, forgive me for I have sinned against you and the Fashion Commandments that you have set forth before thee… in particular Commandment IX: Thou Shalt Not Wear Wrangler Jeans, They’re for Squares and Cowboys. I’m sorry my narcissistic fashion father, but I gotta tell you, they feel good and I’m sure I’ll do it again!
My faithful three readers, I also ask you for forgiveness, because I am about to bore you with yet another post that is 98.5% void of cycling and 98.5% about a pair of jeans that has me and my thighs a tad geeked.
As I mentioned in my last post, Wifey is out-of-town dropping law knowledge on .gov types for the next five days, so I am flying solo with B-Man. That means there would be no Sunday ride. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t get outside to enjoy the sun and 40 degree heat wave that central Michigan is experiencing right now.
Whether this photos is a scream, a cry for help or a yawn from Jake (the dog), it makes no difference. It pretty much sums up the week thus far.
I have no idea why, but for years I have been saying to anyone that will listen (no one) that Grady Wilson from the old 70’s NBC TV show Sanford & Son is what the flu, head cold or similar ailment would look like if it took human form. I say that with not one ounce of disrespect to the late Whitman Mayo who portrayed him, but a fact’s a fact. Or at least an outlandish proclamation is one oddball’s point of view.
I bring all this up for a reason, that reason being that early Friday evening as I sat in the corner of a local junior high gymnasium watching B-Man take part in some winter soccer drills, I knew that Mr. Wilson was about to pay me a visit. In other words, I knew that illness was setting in.
Shit.
Earlier today I had the idea to take a look back at one of my early endurance mountain bike races and rewrite the race report from my current perspective to see how different I might write it now, nine or ten years removed. I still plan on doing that in the near future, but as I read over some of those old posts on the Soiled Chamois v.1 blog I found myself sidetracked with some mild embarrassment and distaste for the way I wrote and approached blogging writing back then (mostly in the ’05 to ’08 era).
Like my grandmother** (God rest her soul) used to say, “Jason, no matter how much of a disgusting, big, fat, lazy, good for nothing douche bag you are, something good will happen sooner or later.” I guess she was sort of right, because after two weeks of failed attempts at riding outside, I FINALLY got out for a ride on Saturday. It was nothing great; a short 20 mile ride on dirt roads that alternated between snowpack, solid, bone breaking ice and bare dirt. Still, I was out riding shortly following one of the coldest spells of the year and I have to say, after temps that were in the -25 degree range, 30 degrees in the sun felt like a warm, heroine enema covered in chocolate and espresso, scented with that Victoria’s Secret perfume that strippers wear. Mmmmm(ish)…
I didn’t ride today. Or yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that, or the day before that. The day before THAT I did though.
Sweet Jesus it’s been two weeks since I rode my bike outside!!
It’s been a while since I had a plan or a goal when it comes to my riding and/or racing. The last time I had a plan was probably back in 2011. We moved to Michigan in the fall of 2010 and my goal for the coming season was simply to race as much as I could so I could get a read on the scene, the riding and the trails. And that’s what I did…
