I had high-ish hopes for riding this week, especially with most of next week being occupied by Christmas travels and festivities madness. Unfortunately I came down with some sort of flu-like crud on Monday night and most of my time over the past few days has been spent coughing under several layers of blankets in the stinky confines of the Chamber of Farts. With that said, I haven’t been on the bike since last Sunday and I am starting to feel like I have a giant, cottage cheese filled ball sack for a chin and an extruded stomach that bounces and sways when I walk. In other words, I feel like the Great Goblin from the Hobbit.
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The Crud
Last night, right after I hit the publish button on what will surely be known as the most widely unread blog post in Soiled Chamois history, I popped my normal shot of ZzzQuil and headed up to The Chamber of Farts that is my bedroom. An hour or so later I was still awake; I tossed, I turned, I coughed, I was hot, I was cold, I was sweating, I coughed again. “Wait, why do I keep coughing?” I thought to myself. Then it hit me…. I’m getting sick… I’ve got the crud! OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
That Sort of Day
Yesterday was my typical and not-so typical Monday. Typically, I was super busy with stuff through the day but oddly enough, in the evening I found myself out at a local watering hole with a couple of friends. Believe me, that is NOT a typical Monday evening for me, but Wifey was throwing a “welcome party” (I had to Google that) for a woman she works with that just adopted a little boy and wanted me out of house, as was going to be overrun with lady folk, and she was pretty sure I would just sit around farting and burping while they were here. As luck would have it, a couple of my college teaching friends were up for going out since their students are doing nothing but taking finals right now and they can goof off a bit.
So, I was able to waste a couple of hours, catch up with some friends and drink a few good beers on Monday night. An unusual Monday night for me, but fun nonetheless.
The Holga Experiment I
After 5 days away I am finally back and “doing stuff.” Sadly, today, my “doing stuff” did not involved time on the bike. Instead it involved running shoes and 4.5 miles on the treadmill squeezed in between a variety of duties that were about as fun a lancing a boil with a dull knitting needle. BUT, in that hodgepodge of boil lancing I was able to drop off and pick up the first roll of film in my winter 2014/15 Holga experiment; it was a sub par success.
The Calm Before
First we had snow, then we didn’t have snow, then we ALMOST had snow again, then I didn’t have time to ride (but time to run) and NOW we’re on the cusp of winter’s first mental demolition (within the Trifecta of Annual Holiday Evil): Thanksgiving.
Gravel Roads & The Violence of Life
The following is a Soiled Chamois “Halloween Special,” a slightly updated photo gallery/article that originally published in XXC Magazine No. 15. Some photos may be disturbing, reader discretion is advised.
A/V Tuesday
My planned mountain bike ride with a buddy of mine got rained out by storms this morning. I was not real thrilled with that turn of events, and spent my morning drinking coffee, perusing the interweb-o-sephere and “acting like a caged animal” according to Wifey who was working at home today and apparently none to thrilled to have me pacing around, growling in my coffee about not riding.
No Flesh Taken
The photo you see above is not from today, it’s actually from Saturday’s ride at MMCC. I sadly didn’t have a chance to ride today, but I did have some time to cut a little off of the EXTREMELY wide bars that came on the Farley (utilizing the dullest hack saw blade known to man) and to run over to the bike shop and pick up a pair of ESI grips. As luck would have it, for the first time EVER I installed the ESI grips without taking a pound of flesh off of my hands. Joy.
It’s looking like I’ll have the chance to get out for some fat on fat on dirt road action tomorrow. As you many have gathered, against my better judgement (judgment, what’s that?) I plan on using the Farley. I figure since I didn’t ride today, I’ll force myself to work harder and ride the fatty on muddy dirt roads as sort of a penance for being fat and lazy. Of course if we get more rain tonight, it might be just the ticket to handle the soft dirt roads.
Sleep beckons.
Later.
When Two Became Three
My plan to take a couple days off the bike for family stuff and to rest a slightly sore knee has rapidly turned into three days off the bike after coming down with an illness of some sort on Sunday. I woke up yesterday a bit achy, rocking a cough, a raspy throat and little to no desire to ride. That illness and apathy carried over to today and was compounded by a depressing, cold drizzle most of the day.
The weather is suppose to be better tomorrow, so I am hopeful that medicating, resting and hydrating today will allow me to head north and roll some fatties on wet and sandy ORV and snowmobile trails for a few hours, or at very least get out on the mud bog dirt roads outside of town.
I could blather on about some sort of bike crap, but I’m opting to turn in early instead.
Photo: Soiled Chamois file photo from an ORV road fat bike ride early this summer (or is it “last summer” now?).
That Meadow
It’s set to piss down rain all day today in Michiganderburgh, so I headed to the basement this morning and dug up a disc of film scans from a 2002 trip to Crested Butte, Colorado. The shot above is another (better) view of the mountain meadow I mentioned in yesterday’s post.
I could seriously look through the photos all day. That area–and much of Colorado in general–really is heaven on earth to me. No wonder Wifey and I found our way out there about five summers straight.
Here are a few other photos that I dug: