The Slow Return

Fun fact for you (not really a fact, more of a story), about 3 years ago I bought a white button down shirt at a local department store to wear for a job interview. Or maybe it was a funeral? Either way, it was for something un-fun. Anyway, I bought the shirt, got it home, took the 2,000,000 pins and plastic clips out of it, tried it on and realized that the sleeves came up to my elbows. Shit, I need to return it.

I gathered up the shirt, the pins, and the plastic clips off the bed, shoved it into the bag and headed back to the store.

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Miles & Random Smut

I took the day off the bike on Thursday and headed down to the shop to fetch the PrOcal that was getting some wrench love. The day off also gave me a chance to rest my left calf which had been giving me some issues while riding. The rest of my Thursday free time was spent running errands and doing summertime dad stuff with B.

After that day of sloth, I was anxious to get back on the bike on Friday morning.

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Untroubled Troublesomeness

As mentioned in the last post, I had been dealing with some off and on again swelling in my left calf since last Friday. Due to my history of DVTs this was very troublesome of course. Despite taking a blood thinner, swelling and slight pain mean one thing to me–another f*cking blood clot. I was hopeful that I just aggravated a muscle during my Memorial Day dirt fest ride, but since it remained for a few days with that familiar tightness, I finally broke down and went to the emergency room.

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A Better One

Wednesday’s ride left me feeling like spent dog shit, and on Thursday there was a large part of my even larger body that wanted to say “f*ck it,” and do anything at all that didn’t involve me riding my bike into a steady headwind on a dirt road.

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The In Between

It was nearly a full week since I last rode my bike. The break was not planned, nor was it enjoyed. It was five days of rain, high winds, cool November-like temps, a busy travel soccer schedule with B, and a nice bout of “who gives a f*ck?” ennui. However, per usual, just when I thought that I might never actually ride my bike again, I found myself rolling out from the cul-de-sac onto the roads of rural Michigan.

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