Posts Tagged → i’m a fucking idiot

Firmness, Blogging & Monkeys

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I am a firm believer in what an old bike blogging sensei once told me in a hazy drunken dream atop a rain-soaked and muddy Pennsylvania mountaintop : “If you can’t think of anything worthwhile to blog about, just post some crap photo you took while your were out riding, no one reads the shit anyway, and if they do–especially in your case–they probably think you’re a complete and utter fucking wanker.”

And so I have. ‘Cause no matter how many miles of the same freaking trails I ride, I find something that I dig and want to make mad, passionate, retinal love to. I have never said that about a road ride. Nothing against road riding, I dig it, and I’ve had  some pretty freaking awesome road rides, but no matter how hard the road tries, it just ain’t as kind on the eyes.

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A Talk With The Trail

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Last week I was putzing around in woods and realized that most of the photos I take of the trails I ride look like smooth ribbons of easy riding dirt. So, I got down and took a few shots of the trail to highlight why I so often opt for my full suspension bike.

As you can see I’m not talking about trying to smooth out Pennsylvania mountain rock gardens or technical descents, I’m simply talking about the ability to ride smoothly over trails that so often appear to be smooth and buff (and thankfully are in some places) but upon closer inspection beat my 43-year-old body up without the aid of some sort of suspension.

It was during this impromptu photo shoot that I starting rapping with the trail. Before I knew it, snapping a photo turned into a short interview that gave me a little insight into the life of the trail I ride so much, and you an insight into me losing my mind.

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Neffness VII

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I just got back into town from a whirlwind trip back to Western PA and need to get some ride mojo going, what better way than with some Neffness?

I am pretty sure that Jolanda Neff is the Peter Sagan of Women’s XCO mountain bike racing, just with better hair, much nicer legs and (most likely) no want to pinch any podium girl bums… not to mention I have no desire to see Peter Sagan in a skirt showing off the bike geek tan lines on his thighs (unless he finally wins a fucking sprint finish!).

Photo via Jolanda Neff’s Facebook page, most likely taken by Bernard van Dierendonck

Strange Enjoyments

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Lately I have been taking enjoyment from some strange things, and by “strange,”  I don’t mean stupidly riding around the snowless woods on a heavy ass fat bike or my born again lust for women wearing tube socks. Not that those things aren’t fun or incredibly freaking hot, it’s just not what I am referring to. Read on if ye care, if ye don’t… well… don’t.

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A Different Burger

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Long time Soiled Chamois readers (all two of them) are probably familiar with my early summer Cat 5 Cooking project entitled The Soiled Burger Project; a meaty attempt at making a burger that was tastier to my aging, dulling taste buds. In my opinion, the results were great and I eventually settled on a burger that I really enjoy eating and turns out perfect for me on a consistent basis. However, I started to enjoy a few too many of them. Many pounds of ground beef were happily eaten. Then, just as I started looking into buying my own cow, and just shy of developing SCOMS (or as it is unrecognized by and not at all referred to by the American Medical Association: Severe Chronic Ongoing Meat Sweats) I decided that I had found my burger and it was time to move on… time to move on to something a bit more, how should I say this… vegetarian?

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The Soiled Burger Project Final

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The Soiled Burger Project is over (hold your applause, please), and I gotta tell you, it all seems sort of anticlimactic. I made more than a few burgers over the last month or so, surely upped my cholesterol a few points and no doubt ingested my fair share of bovine antibiotics, that will most likely prevent me from fighting off future illnesses and leave me dying of consumption in the winter to come (again, hold  your applause).

All those burgers, all that meat, all that grilling and it has come full circle to the Burger 01.

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The Soiled Burger Project 02

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Last week, I introduced The Soiled Burger Project; my attempt to up my burger grilling game. In my opinion, Burger 01 was a success to my ever growing belly and dulling taste buds.

I was set to continue the pointless, calorie rich project as the week went on, then I ran out of propane, then I was out-of-town for three days, but hey, I’m back in town now, with some fresh ‘pane and I’m set to continue on with Burger 02, a spicy, sriracha sauce tinged, hunk of ground meaty goodness on a bun. Or at least that’s what I had hoped.

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Crush Pasta III

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The gun people have the NRA in their corner defending their right to blow big holes in things. Cigarettes have the tobacco industry and all those old smokers trying to look hip on ventilators in their corner. Sugar, which has come to be blamed for everything from childhood obesity, to Obamacare, to erectile dysfunction, has nearly the entire American food industry in its corner. And pasta? Well, pasta has me to champion how freaking good it is when eaten in moderation (although I prefer not to) and prepared with love (Note: please make a rainbow arc with your hands as you read the word love).

Pasta can warm the cockles of even the most staunch carb hater. Yeah, I’m looking at the Atkins people with their three meals a day of cheese & bacon but can’t walk up a flight of stairs and the ninety-nine dollars a pound, grass-fed, Cross-Fit doing, high horse riding Paleo people! Go ahead, hate on pasta! I’ll still be here eating it and loving it along with millions of Italians, the state of New Jersey and that hot Italian cook with the giant head on the Food Network. We be tight.

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Scales

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Yesterday (on the road for 41 miles), and today on the trail, was all about the scale. No, not the scale that tells me that I’ve gained 40 pounds since 2005 when I started this blog, fancied myself an endurance mountain bike racer who eventually realized he just likes to ride his bike on trails, gravel and roads, drink beer, eat good food and sometimes race, but the pain scale. I have to say, that even though I don’t like pain, I like this scale way more than that fucking, lying piece of shit in my bathroom… Forty pounds my ass!

This week has been made up of the following: riding, bitching, moaning, hate, expanding my liver, stretching, core work, ice therapy (to that area that makes up the gulf betweenst my two giant love handles) and adjustments to my riding position. Right now, things are going pretty darn, not bad. In fact, today I completed my normal 16 mile loop and on a pain scale of 1 to 10 I think it was merely a 4… maybe even a 3. Woot!

To go back a smidge, I got out yesterday on the road bike. I felt like shit… I felt great… I felt like shit… I felt great. Grrrr…

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While I didn’t feel great over the entire 41 miles of crap Michigan roads, I felt well enough that I didn’t want to sell all my bikes and take up drinking and masturbation as my “go-to” hobbies (they will remain in the 2 and 3 slots).

And I as I said above, today’s slow/quick lap felt pretty OK… ish.

Later…. I have a couple other hobbies to take care of.