The past week contained a little bit of riding, goofing off in the woods with my camera, hanging out with friends, some blood, and some shit. Literally, some shit.
Friday morning I got out for a dirt road ride south of town. It felt so good to be on the bike after way too many days off of it and the conditions were just about as perfect as they could be for a ride through the rural Michigan countryside; sun, temps in the 60s, and a nice breeze that kept things cool and caused very little headwind issues.
The only issue over the 28 miles was my ass. Yes, my ass again. Sorry.
Despite having a long-standing ass rub issues with a pair of Sugoi bibs I have, I chose to wear them anyway. What I should have done was throw them in the fucking garbage, but instead, I stuffed my ass into them and rode on. This was fine for miles 1 through 20 and I even started thinking that my flaccid ass cheeks were adapting. Then mile 21 happened and I started to feel the all too familiar rubbage. Apparently, the chamois cream was now wearing off and another battle of my ass cheeks vs. Sugoi chamois pad started up.
The result of all this was another bloody imprint on my left ass cheek and another painful post-ride shower. The ride was fun though.
Saturday was going to be a busy one and I didn’t think I could get a ride in. However, the combination of cool yet humid temps and morning mist was the perfect combination to motivate me to get out the door early that morning and still have time to finish up the second batch of Mexican pulled pork I was making for a friend’s graduation party, or as they’re called in Michigan, “open house.”
The ride was another short 28-mile ride from the Cul-De-Sac-Shack but it felt good to squeeze one in. I was worried about making my ass worse, but the vintage pair of Twin-Six bibs I had on did a good job of keeping me comfy. And hey, people could only see my flesh pouring out of holes in them when I stood up! I sat a lot.
Later that afternoon we headed to the open house. Ate some good food, had some beers, enjoyed time with friends and meeting new ones. B-Man was staying overnight there so Wifey and I headed home anxious for our heads to hit pillows. Jake (the dog) had other ideas.
We walked into the house to find a nice sized puddle of diarrhea. Damn! Jake hasn’t had an accident in the house in over 6 years, so I knew something was up. Then, as I looked down the stairs into the basement family room I saw his head poke up. Oh no… Jake doesn’t go upstairs or downstairs without being picked up. I knew something was wrong, and it was!
Further investigating had us finding puddles of poo in the family room, my office, B’s room, B’s bathroom, the basement steps, dining room, living room, upstairs hallway, and guest bedroom. The next two hours were spent scrubbing poo from nearly every room in the house, as well as doing what we could to calm Jake down and make sure he was OK. He must have been scared to death, looking for us, or a way to get outside to poo.
I felt so bad for him and was mad at myself because I knew it was my fault! I had given him the bone from the pork butt I was roasting and it must have made him sick. I should have known better, Jake doesn’t eat people food and never has table scraps. I’m an idiot!
After a late night of poo scrubbing and dog care, I was in no mood to ride on Sunday. So, after too much coffee and too much World Cup viewing, I drove over to the Sylvan Preserve with the idea of hiking. I walked around a bit and took some photos, but I wouldn’t say what I did was a workout or even a hike. It was more just me goofing off in the woods with my camera.
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My ass is mending, although still looking like a two elderly scrotal sacks hanging from my lower back, the Sugoi bibs are in the garbage along with the second pork butt bone, and Jake is feeling a bit better. After a somewhat busy Monday, I’m hoping to get some miles in via bike and feetz the rest of the week.
Later.