This photo has nothing to do with anything other than it’s the only photo in my recent stash that comes close to illustrating how I feel right now.
Tag Archives | being a slacker
Exchanging Miseries
I have been off the bike and out of the gym for…um…. ah…. Hell, I don’t even know how long anymore. I was on a scheduled family vacation for a few days and despite making it to the gym today, I feel exactly like a big fat swollen blubbery miserable gorilla turd.
Hiatus
I will be on hiatus from the ice, snow and this digital fish wrap I call a blog for the next 5 days or so whilst taking part in some scheduled family activities. I am almost positive that I will bring down any possibility of fun or relaxation for my family just by being there, but it’s worth a shot… I guess… maybe…
The Sound of The Vent
* I was really hoping to get out for a ride on the snow today, but it turns out I didn’t… and I had to deal with that as best I could.
Gym Follies & Other Stuff
This week has been a pretty good week of what I call “doing stuff.” Some people call it “training” but I can’t really bring myself to use that term anymore, since I have no idea what I am training for other than to not get any fatter and to ride and race my bike without looking like the complete douche bag that I surely am.
Part of the stuff I do is going to the gym for some strength training and off the bike cardio. It’s nothing over the top and it’s not all that interesting, but this week did have it’s share of ridiculousness…
The Struggle
I got me a case of writer’s block. It’s not entirely my fault, it just that there is NOTHING going on except zero degree temps and snow. OK, there are things going one but I’m talking about things that are worth talking about. The following is a list of things that I thought about blathering on about but realized there was no real point…
Cheers To Friday
Long week of trainer boredom, snow day ennui, and some job searching. Time to eat up, drink up, watch some footy and maybe go for a snowshoe or ski or two in betweenst some family plans.
Sausage Party
I would love to fill your heads with tales of racing and long rides, but I can’t. I could probably talk about U.S. Cyclocross Nationals, but cross really isn’t my thing, so I won’t. Instead, I will fill your head with sausages, because lately many have come to expect very little from this “cycling” blog and I aim to please.
Sponsorships & The Isolati
When I was racing around five or six years back, I found myself thinking a lot about sponsorships, teams and that sort of thing. Looking back on it, I am pretty embarrassed about all that. I mean on one hand I worked hard at being a bike racer back then: I watched what I ate (or didn’t eat), I drank less beer, trained harder and rode a ton more. Regardless of that, I was–and still am–very much an amateur bike racer. I did OK-ish in the then burgeoning endurance mountain bike race scene, not winning per se, but not embarrassing myself like I do now either. I guess I thought that having a team or sponsor throw me a discount justified all the work I was doing, or maybe it just made me feel like I was being accepted into some sort of bike racing fraternity. Still, looking back on it I wonder why the hell I cared. Did putting logos on my blog make me faster? No. Did getting tires at cost win me any races? No. Did it make me look like a douche bag for blathering on about products or blogging stupid things about what I got in the mail today from my sponsor rather the talking of the true spirit of riding and racing? Yep.
Mandatory Polar Vortex Post
Most of the U.S. is dug polar icecap deep into Jack Frost’s frigid anal vortex, and as you can imagine, we here in Michigan are tickling his nether regions REALY good (of course we’re making Detroit do all the dirty work). I mean shit is Fargo ass COLD! So, I figured I would jump on the “IT’S FUCKING COLD, LOOK HOW HARD MY NIPPLES ARE!” bandwagon today with a pic of Jake The Dog out doing ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING in -25˚ winds while I stand there like a frozen fucking idiot. Fucking dogs… Fucking dog OWNERS. Morons.
