Oh God, I Love You, But You Trouble Me
I remember reading an article in (blech) Bicycling Magazine (remember when there was an ! at the end of the title!?) about a guy who rode this horrendous century and concluded that every cyclist needs a ride that makes them not want to ride again in order to become a better cyclist--the whole "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" thing. Of course, I always insist that I could still very easily end up exhausted, injured, or insane. But at least I won't be dead.
It was a horrendous club ride tonight. Overcast, but humid, thick air. Some maniacs at the front took it up to over 25 after only a few minutes. Then a group of us got stopped at an intersection, and the pack just took off. Bastards. Then I got into a little verbal altercation with "Scattante" (Supergo house brand), a pro-doping doctor guy/fan of Lance. Nobody knows any names, just bikes. "Trek" "Bianchi" "Trek" "Kestral" "Litespeed" "Trek" "Colnago" And Steve. He introduced himself last night even though we did that last summer. He was nice and thanked me for pulling so much to try and catch up with the pack. That doctor guy only pulled once in a while and when he did he really ramped up the speed. If he was so strong back there, sucking up our wheels, he could have pulled more. I don't think we'll be saying more than a noncommittal "hey" anymore. But I should have known it was gonna be a bad night when my pump blew apart as I tried to fill up my front tire. When our possessions let us down that's always a sure sign of badness.
Also, some no good do-gooder signed me up to raise money for Jerry's Kids. They do this whole jail-themed thing where they "arrest" you and you have to raise "bail." Some lady from MDA called me the other day and chastised me for not having raised enough money so far. She had a point, I hadn't tried to raise any.
I remember reading an article in (blech) Bicycling Magazine (remember when there was an ! at the end of the title!?) about a guy who rode this horrendous century and concluded that every cyclist needs a ride that makes them not want to ride again in order to become a better cyclist--the whole "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" thing. Of course, I always insist that I could still very easily end up exhausted, injured, or insane. But at least I won't be dead.
It was a horrendous club ride tonight. Overcast, but humid, thick air. Some maniacs at the front took it up to over 25 after only a few minutes. Then a group of us got stopped at an intersection, and the pack just took off. Bastards. Then I got into a little verbal altercation with "Scattante" (Supergo house brand), a pro-doping doctor guy/fan of Lance. Nobody knows any names, just bikes. "Trek" "Bianchi" "Trek" "Kestral" "Litespeed" "Trek" "Colnago" And Steve. He introduced himself last night even though we did that last summer. He was nice and thanked me for pulling so much to try and catch up with the pack. That doctor guy only pulled once in a while and when he did he really ramped up the speed. If he was so strong back there, sucking up our wheels, he could have pulled more. I don't think we'll be saying more than a noncommittal "hey" anymore. But I should have known it was gonna be a bad night when my pump blew apart as I tried to fill up my front tire. When our possessions let us down that's always a sure sign of badness.
Also, some no good do-gooder signed me up to raise money for Jerry's Kids. They do this whole jail-themed thing where they "arrest" you and you have to raise "bail." Some lady from MDA called me the other day and chastised me for not having raised enough money so far. She had a point, I hadn't tried to raise any.
1 Comments:
You sort of look like the crazy killer dude from the latest Harry Potter movie in that picture. You should print it out and put it up at work!
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