STORY NUMBER ONE
For Friday’s hike, I waffled on taking my ancient Canon s95 point and shoot, and the ALMOST as old Fuji x70 instead of my normal set-up. In the end, I opted for the Fuji at the last minute for some reason, and was soon hurling myself down the road toward the trails.
The week of lumbering has been damn good so far, and dare I say I have been feeling better mentally and physically than I have since roughly last October. *knocks on every piece of wood in the house* Spiderweb
I woke on Tuesday morning at 5:55 to the soothing sounds of a steady spring rain falling. I flirted with the idea of preempting my 6AM alarm, farting, rolling over and going back to bed, happy to spend a little longer under the covers as the rain pelted the windows. Instead, I turned off the alarm, farted, and got out of bed.
Lola was fed, coffee was downed, dumps were taken, and soon I was on my way to the trails, eager to get some soggy miles in my feetz.
Is your nubbin buttered? Would you like us to assign someone to butter your nubbin?
I’m fairly certain that no one on earth, aside from me, calls tree buds, flowers, and other plant-based woodsy matter “nubbins” (short for Nature Nubbins). However, like most of the stupid things I think, say, and write, it popped into my head years ago and never left my lexicon.
Today, April 28th, is the 20th anniversary of The Soiled Chamois. We all know it should have ended long ago, along with nearly every other bike blog from the early 2000’s. But, as they say, here we are.
Much has changed along the way, for better and for worse, but for some unknown reason, I keep hitting the publish button. For that you have my apologies.
I like to think the way I write has got better over the years, along with my perspective on things like bike racing, bikes, photography, and life in general.
The bulk of the bike-oriented blogging was done from 2005 to 2013 and on Google’s Blogger platform, and sadly, when I look back from time to time, I can’t say I enjoy reading it; that’s why it remains offline these days.
There’s a saying out there amongst office-working types; “This meeting could have been an email.” Well, I think it goes without saying the bulk of my posts over the past 20 years could have been a Facebook post or, better yet, maybe just not posted at all.
However, I am a creature of habit, and this digital fish wrap helps me bring my favorite hobbies together, share some words, and have an outlet for the creative part of my brain that I don’t know how to shut down. (I imagine more stuff before 7 AM than most people do all day!!)
At best, I hope my blog can inspire you to get outside or maybe laugh. And at worst, you find me an insufferable prick that can go fuck himself.
The blog post below was the first “real” post I did as The Soiled Chamois. I don’t have any photos from the ride, but I included one of me and a 15-month-old B-Man taken a week or two after that first post. The pic is just before the start of my first race of the 2005 season (The Revenge of The Rattlesnake XCM in West Virginia). B looks less than thrilled to be on the start line, and 33-year-old me looks emaciated compared to 53-year-old me!
I don’t think I have another 20 years of this shit show in me, but until my hosting plan runs out, I’ll be here.
Later.
It seemed like Thursday was the first day Ma Nature deemed that spring could officially begin, and I was eager to embrace the day proper.
Despite arriving home late from our trip to Lansing (More on that later, but I will say “late for me,” is arriving home at 11 PM, but that is 2 hours minimum past my bedtime!) I was still up at 5:50 and eager to get in the woods.
The weekend into Monday, Ma Nature teased mid-Michigan with thoughts of Spring, but as I’ve said many times since moving here in 2010, you can’t really rely on Spring to bring consistently warm days until early May—maybe.
So, I was not surprised to venture into the woods wearing gloves and carrying around the regret of not wearing my “winter” jacket (actually a Bontrager cycling jacket with easy-to-access rear pockets, but don’t tell anyone) instead of the lightweight rain jacket (also a Bontrager cycling jacket disguised as a hiking jacket. Shhh!). At least my hands were warm as random snowflakes flitted around in the air.
I figured I might as well keep a “not bad” thing going, and I was once again in bed before sunset last night. The result was I woke up more refreshed and rested than I had in nearly two flu-ridden weeks. It only took 13 days, but I’ll take what I can get.
It was a week ago today that I celebrated the fact that I was finally able to get 3 lumbers in a row in my feetz, and I was eyeing up my first full week of outdoor fitness activities this month. Sadly, along with the strange feeling of low-grade happiness, I also felt like I was coming down with a cold, which actually ended up being the flu, which kicked my ass like a football made of fevered, achy, sagging, man-flesh.
Fast forward to today, and I have once again completed three lumbers in a row, and HOPE to to get in a full 25-30 mile week of lumbering. There has been no celebrating, just a longing for normalcy and a blessed routine.
I am quite used to dealing with large gaps for such things as my résumé, my memory, and the distance between pants buttons and their holes, but in my “fitness” calendar, not so much.
I know, the sentence above makes it sound like I am some whispy fitness junkie who has 2% body fat, runs like a gazelle, and eats like a bird. But as we all know, or should know, I fill my calendar with lumbers, snowshoes, hikes, walks, runs, and rides as much as I can to make up for the fact that I am a 53-year-old man who loves to cook, drink IPAs, and works like a dog just to limit my pounds overweight to 50 and to keep my mind centered and in the present rather than racing with self-loathing, doubt, depression, and anxiety.
