What’s In a Name?

I have been thinking more and more about this site lately, and I find that I’m sort of in a conundrum. See, as many of you know, I started this blog back in April of 2005. My first “real” post was about a hilly 55-mile road ride back in Western Pennsylvania, some of which was in a cold rain. 

“So about 2:45 into the ride, the wind kicks up, and it starts raining ephing [fucking] sideways. I pulled off to put on the [a] rain jacket, made sure my blinky light was on, threw a wiz, and got moving. The temps seem to drop about 20 degrees. My hands were so numb I could barely feel my levers to shift. Water was rooster tailing right up the chamois like a cold water enema. The suffering was good for me; it’s not always gonna be sunny and 70˚ on race day, BUT I don’t want to get sick either with my first race 2 weeks away. So at 3:20 into the ride, I aborted.”

— The Soiled Chamois v.1, April 28, 2005¹

Fast forward 17 years, and for a variety of reasons (mostly not wanting to be smashed dead by car), I don’t ride paved roads anymore, just Michigan gravel; I can’t imagine even wanting to ride 55 miles (or more) again, and the only thing I’ll go out in a cold rain for these days is to watch footy or a do a peaceful hike in the wet woods with my camera. On top of that, I can count on one hand how many times I rode singletrack last season.

I enjoyed the hell out of those years of long rides in the mountains, endurance mountain bike racing, and training, but as you know, the combination of multiple blood clots (4 in total), life-long blood-thinning medication, a move to flat-assed central Michigan, losing a good friend to a distracted/drunk motorist while he was riding his bike near my home, and bouts of depression has had me, over time, finding joy in other ways. Sadly, not all of them are that healthy for me, but many are, like hikes, gym time, and growing as a photographer. And I’m OK with that; we all have interests and passions that grow and evolve over time.

So, the problem of which I speak is that these days, the only way I’m soiling a chamois is if my 50-year-old sphincter rolls the dice on a post-chili night fart while I’m riding my bike (or my undies while I’m grocery shopping, don’t judge). I no longer care about the latest bike news, race results, training techniques, or cycling gear. I’m just a guy that occasionally rides his bike, and that is hardly worth writing about and worth even less reading about.

“Do ya know-what-I-mean?” — Liam Gallagher

The thing is, I really enjoy all the writing, photography, and design that goes into this site (That’s how XXC Magazine started). And like I’ve always said, it’s hard to break a 17-year-old blogging habit, even on a blog that has degraded into a sad, mundane, very public journal of unfunny commentary and ill-conceived sophomoric witticisms written by a semi-active, often depressed, overweight, beer-loving 50-year-old middle-class white guy.

I have been creating things in one medium or another my entire life, and I’m not about to stop now, but I am on the fence about whether to keep this particular blog—at least its current name—going. 

***

At least once a week, I find myself asking if I should go through the steps of a domain name change to make it less cycling-related, and I spend more time than a grown-ass adult should be contemplating new blog names. And if the blog is not cycling-related, what the hell is it? The Soiled Chamois, A Journal of Semi-Active Slack.

The problem is that I have used the Soiled Chamois moniker since 2005, and at this point, it would be like deciding to change my name from Jason to Franklin J. Alejandro De Jesús Roosevelt (my go-to fake name whenever I participate in illicit activities, which has yet to actually happen, but I’m super freaking keen on that name. So if you’re planning a bank heist or similar activity, let me know; I have a name at the ready).

“Do ya know-what-I-mean?” — Noel Gallagher

So to outline what the borderline unreadable shit above said:

1. I’ve been doing this blog since 2005.
2. I don’t ride my bike enough to justify the blog’s current name.
3. I’m kicking around a more suitable, less cycling-related blog title.
4. Do I really even care? This is just for shits and giggles, not money.
5. Franklin J. Alejandro De Jesús Roosevelt is a bad ass alias.
6. Ask me what the J stands for.
7. Nothing. The J stands for nothing.

***

I have 5 days and 17+ miles of Dreadmill lumbering and strength training in this week, so Saturday is a welcomed day of sloth, with only a short walk in the sunny bare, dry, muddy, slushy, snowy, and icy woods before some evening beverages that will help me maintain my full-figuredness.

Later.

1. Soiled Chamois v.1 lasted from ’05-’12 on Google Blogger. For the benefit of humanity, it is now hidden from public view. Looking back on those posts with the benefits of age and the slight bit of maturity and wisdom that comes with it makes it hard to read.