The Hazards of Stubble

As you may have read last night (or this morning if your hammer swings that way) my cross bike was a real pain in the arse last night. I screwed up my cantis (then fixed them well enough), then one of my brand new studded tires was giving me grief. Every time I pumped up the tire I was getting a bulge on the side wall. "What the eph?" I repeated under and over my breath more than a few times. Finally upon inspection I noticed that the bead was jacked up in a few places and the tire was just not gonna seat. EVER.

So this a.m. I got on the horn with Bikeman.com and talked to Mr. Bikeman himself (Davis), worked out the exchange. He found me a new tire and it is shipping it on out ASAP. Bikeman.com has always been good to me (even beyond letting me race for them a few years ago, and being an XXC Magazine advertiser). Sure they sell on the Web, but they are also a local shop too, and it shows when you call and talk to them. Anyway, thanks for the help Davis, look forward to SOMEDAY finally getting these damn tire mounted up.

The stubbly hazards of which the title speaks...

I went to the gym today. I know, BFD. Did my thing with the StairMaster, then with the weights. But when it came time to do my 2nd StairMaster thing (the one where I kick it up the sweat all over the machine factor), they were all booked up. Drat! I thought about going over and letting the folks know that me and the StairMaster sort of have a "thing," and that maybe they should just take their workout to some other goofy ass machine (because let's face it, all the freaking machines at the gym are goofy ass stupid). But I thought that MIGHT come off a bit too douchey. So I just went and did the rowing machine.

The rowing machine gives a pretty good workout, but I sort of feel like a knob doing it. BUT it beats the flailing around on that walk/run/step/ballz out stupid looking elliptical machine. Where was I going with this?....

Oh yeah, so I'm doing the rowing thing, and I'm putting down the freaking row boat hammer, letting out some audible grunts, groan and moans. Heaving my ever widening, despite working out 10 hours a week, body to and fro. I mean I was practically having sex with this machine!

You just threw up in your mouth a little, didn't you? That's OK. I get that a lot.

I'm doing my thing, trying to keep good "rowing machine" form (whatever that is?), when I realized I was getting brush burns on my inner bicep. Yep, red, burning discomfort in the inner folds of my grandma-esque biceps. The cause? My freaking legs! I shave my legs (no big deal, used to do it 'cause I considered myself some sort of wanna-be racer boy, now I do it mainly because it makes me feel pretty). Anyway, it's been a couple days since I got intimate with the Lady Bic, so there was is some stubble on the legs. During "the act" of rowing, my arms were occasionally swiping against my "tuspie" like legs and the result was some mild discomfort and irritation.

Why did I feel the need to share this story with you? Um, er, I dunno. Call it a public service announcement or something. Beware of leg stubble when on the rowing machine, or end up at the doctor with bleeding inner biceps and a story only slightly less embarrassing than the guy that "accidentally sat on a dog bone when he was naked."

Does the stubble talk end here. Hell no! I got more baby! Also beware wearing fleece sweat pants (AKA fat pants) when you're rocking the stubble, or upon taking them off you will find that you have tufts of dyed cotton balls sticking all over your legs. Not a good look for a man. Hell, that's not a good look for anyone.

I gotta go shave my legs.

Later.

P.S. Thanks to Urban Dictionary. Because sometimes I know what I WANT to say, but often I am not sure there is actually a word for it. Turns out there often is. So thanks U.D.