Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Scoreboard Reads:
Pavement 1, Pedal Stroke 0
Chicago has finally hit its utmost prime... weather is consistently decent and it's not ball-sweat, swamp-ass August yet. Beer gardens are offering up cold brews and tantalizing eye candy. One can hardly feed a parking meter without falling over some tramp in a tank top. Every turn of every corner seems to bring the sounds of a live band playing, "Brown Eyed Girl." Being a cyclist in Chicago in the summer is the friggin' shiz-nit, right?
Except when you find yourself rubber side up. It was all a cluster of donkey shit, but in order to keep things civil on the group ride, let's just say 2 wheels kissed and then the pavement frenched me. I would like to have some long winded story about a road defect, a drunk driver, hail and lightening, a midget basketball team and component failure. I would also be stoked to report that this was one of those we-could-have-all-died-in-a-firey-hell-but-someone-did-exactly-the-right-thing-at-exactly-the-right-time-and-saved-the-day life-affirming tales of strength and determination. But unfortunately, I just have to say that a certain rider who isn't usually a dumb ass was a huge dumb ass and I blame him and he blames me because he suspects that he is indeed the dumb ass. But whatever.
The road rash is killer and I am just glad to have been discharged home with some kick ass pain pills. Although uncomfortable, there is no prob with spinning the wheels so expect to see me out there again, rocking my training plan (as directed by Coach M). Hell, the Vicodin may be a valuable asset during intervals.
I'm a little weary though, so I may be riding on my own. Give me some room, will ya?
Chicago has finally hit its utmost prime... weather is consistently decent and it's not ball-sweat, swamp-ass August yet. Beer gardens are offering up cold brews and tantalizing eye candy. One can hardly feed a parking meter without falling over some tramp in a tank top. Every turn of every corner seems to bring the sounds of a live band playing, "Brown Eyed Girl." Being a cyclist in Chicago in the summer is the friggin' shiz-nit, right?
Except when you find yourself rubber side up. It was all a cluster of donkey shit, but in order to keep things civil on the group ride, let's just say 2 wheels kissed and then the pavement frenched me. I would like to have some long winded story about a road defect, a drunk driver, hail and lightening, a midget basketball team and component failure. I would also be stoked to report that this was one of those we-could-have-all-died-in-a-firey-hell-but-someone-did-exactly-the-right-thing-at-exactly-the-right-time-and-saved-the-day life-affirming tales of strength and determination. But unfortunately, I just have to say that a certain rider who isn't usually a dumb ass was a huge dumb ass and I blame him and he blames me because he suspects that he is indeed the dumb ass. But whatever.
The road rash is killer and I am just glad to have been discharged home with some kick ass pain pills. Although uncomfortable, there is no prob with spinning the wheels so expect to see me out there again, rocking my training plan (as directed by Coach M). Hell, the Vicodin may be a valuable asset during intervals.
I'm a little weary though, so I may be riding on my own. Give me some room, will ya?
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