Wednesday, September 2, 2009


On Stress . . . .
Things are getting busy. Things are getting frustrating. Things are happening out of my control that are/will be affecting how/if/when I can ride. If you've been paying attention you might remember that I've chucked my old career into the dumpster and have taken on an exciting new one.

I didn't go into this decision lightly as it's been years in the making and I am happy with my decision. However, I didn't anticipate all the changes, requirements, challenges that go with it. I just erased a few sentences that I wrote because it's long and boring and would come across like I'm whining. Feels like my head is about to explode with all the stuff I'm trying to fit into my head and life right now. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah . . . . . and that's all I have to say about that.

What does my life altering event mean for you? Maybe infrequent blogging, less riding being reported on, an opportunity to watch my lose my bike legs. Meh. In the big scheme of things it will only be until December 3rd - mark it on your calendar. In the next three months I am planning a big comeback . . . . all will be revealed.

On sticking something up something else . . . . .
Just received this from my buddy Charles, who by the way is challenged in the girth department - like me, sent me these photos today (after reading yesterdays awesome post), on how he deals with some of his equipment.

now you see it

now you don't - shazam!
well, actually you do still see it, but you know where it's going . . . .

Anything to free up space in the old jersey pockets for some vittles.

On dirtbags . . . . . .
The photo below best describes:

A) someone who just received a wedgie (and liked it);
B) someone who enjoys wearing a bunched up thong;
C) a freerider getting ready to go on an XC ride with his spandex wearing buddies;
D) a homeless person looking for a handout near a trailhead;
E) all of the above.
On creaky parts . . . . .
If you're experiencing some part of your bike that's making a creaking noise (my all time favourite!), start at the center of your drive train (ie. bottom bracket) and work outwards to locate the source. A recent creaking noise that I found led me to my saddle rails. So, instead of fugging around with it, I took it all apart, cleaned it, greased it up and put it all back together. Success.

Have you clicked this today?


Anonymous said...

man-o-man... you ain't seen nothing yet!

cops have a tough job. I would never in a million years want that job.
You take your job home.
The likelihood of divorce is much much greater when being a cop.
You are never home.
You deal with all of societies problems.
You are expected to be: a peace maker, a conflict mediator, a pyschologist, a bad-azz at times, a part-time lawyer, etc...

Yah gotta really love it.

Why you gave up summers off and a pension is beyond me.

Should have asked around...

Never in a million years would I do that job. A lot is expected and your life is no longer private.

Unknown said...

Not to mention that you still won't be able to do anything about those blog stalkers! :-o

I'm going with all of the above PLUS the person most likely to race DH for Marin next year.

King said...

You deal with all of societies problems.
You are expected to be: a peace maker, a conflict mediator, a pyschologist, a bad-azz at times, a part-time lawyer, etc...

Given your previous career I figure you are already an expert in all of that and then some, your busy now but you will be fine. Call or e-mail when you need a hand, don't just suck it up. You have friends who can lighten the burden a little.

cornfed said...

The buddy I wrote about before your vacation to that vacationy spot... you know the other bacon lover?

Well he absolutely loves his job. He's having a blast. All jobs suck. That's life. He loves it though. Stinks that his days off are Weds/Thurs at the moment and he works 2:30pm - 11:30pm and doesn't get to spend a whole lot of time with the family unit, but it works out. Schedules change. Don't get discouraged.

Unless you win the nummers, in which case, get discouraged, depressed, and realize you wanna be a barista for exploding expresso marts...

Remember, better me than Dicky.