W.S.E. Day Two (It's better)

W.S.E (Worst Summer Ever) was in full effect today. Much of White Oak is still mopping up after last night's royal piss down of rain. We had a bit of water in the Stankment™, which will now make it 50% Stankier, for my winter training pleasure. It looked like down in one part of town they had some major shit happen, with a small creek that went BIG on their asses resulting in mud and debris all over the place. I blame all the storm drains and drainage that is backed up with Wendy's cups, Dorito bags, and God knows what else. Good luck to them.


The skies were indeed gray (please refer to the W.S.E. Gray Day Chart above) and mud, stones and debris littered many roads, but remember the W.S.E. creed- Embrace The Suck! I mounted the Campeon and did my 30 mile loop, pushed some big gears and reminded the legs what the hell it feels like to put some power down. The sort of which I will need for a course like the M.F.L.J. (Mother F*cking Lumberjack).

The (brief) rain held off until I was finished with my ride, but even if it had rained, bring it on! I was in full on "embrace" mode. It felt so good to ride and open up the legs, after a week that saw little saddle time for my aging, flabby ass.

It was HUMID as the under carriage of a fat man in leather pants, and just as stanky. Remember the Carp Nut Sack comment, I made a while back? Well, now imagine the fat man in his leather pants, combined with some seriously humid weather, with said vile smelling Carp (and his sack) stuff in his crotchial regions. Go ahead, take a minute, immmmmmagine.... OK? Good.

I had a feeling I'd be seeing some reptile type critters on the road, with the high waters and flash floods of last night. Today's list was one live snake (small and not scary), one dead frog, and this fella...

He was NOT making good time across the road. I wanted to pick him up and help him, but I've read about these rare incurable skin diseases you can get from touching a turtle. Or was that fornicating with Brazilian prostitute? Either way, I left him to fend for himself. I was happy that on my return he was gone and made it across safely.

Mmmm, smell that muddy, nasty, water. The amount of disease in that water makes the above mentioned Brazilian prostitute seems like the Virgin Connie Swail.

The Muddy Carp Balls meets leather pants wearing Fat Man Balls humidity had me sweating like a pig. The Tifosi specs were littered with sweat and I think I spent half the ride riding cross eyed in an attempt to see! (As you see below, because I have no self respect whatsoever)

I'm starting to think that crossed eyes could only improve my "look".

As so often is the case, I can't blather on about BIG hours on the bike, power output, or high zoot bike shit, but I CAN find a way to blather on about a 2 hour ride. It's a curse. Really.

By this time tomorrow I will be atop the rust belt, in Michigan, probably drinking a beer, eating high carb, cheese slathered food, watching a bad movie with a couple of friends, including (of course) Mr. Brad Schmalzer (on guitar). I have yet to do a race in 2009 that I didn't find myself sharing a hotel room with Brad and a bunch of bikes the night before. WTF? Snotcycle, Camp Hilbert, Leesburg, Mohican and now the Lumberjack. I have had some good races this year (for me). Maybe Brad is like a good luck charm? What will I ever do if Brad doesn't come to a race with me??? MAMA!!!

In closing I have to mention again that the whole Worst Summer Ever thing is of course all in fun. There are a LOT of folks worse off than me out there. Of course this IS more important because it's about a perennial mid packer not having the chance to enjoy riding his bike, but you get the point. PLUS, LAST summer was the Worst Summer Ever! (Hyper extended thumb, bee sting/swollen hand, depression, strep throat, pink eye, a $350 DNF, and Deep Vein Thrombosis). So bring on the rain, the mud and the hundies! I can take it like a champ. Me and that Brazilian prostitute are not so different. Except for the paid sex with lots of strange men part.

Time to keep packing and get ready for 9 hours of driving in the a.m. followed by 100 miles of damp Michigan single track with 200 other freaks.

Next post on Sssssunday.

Later.