Dog Gone It!!
I spent my Sunday wallowing in some sort of post race depression. After the realization that yes, I can ride 62 miles of gravel roads with no problem, but can't (and may be shouldn't) RACE 62 miles. I was ready to give up on the race season entirely. Yep, after ONE race.
I'm an idiot.
By Monday morning I had convinced myself that not racing is stupid and that I would most likely be racing the Lowell 50 gravel race this Saturday in you guessed it.... LOWELL, MI. With my mind committed to continuing to race I figured wallowing in self pity was not the best way to train. So I found my winter clothing (from 70 to 35 in one day!!) and went out for a ride.
The sun was shining and my mind was shedding funk with every turn of the pedals. I headed north to hit some gravel, turn onto E. Denver Road and was enjoying fast dry dirt and a nice tail wind. Yeah man, this is just what the doctor ordered! Well at least until about 12 miles in.
As I rolled down Denver a dog came out into the road, I moved to the left, it ran beside me. Fearing that it would get tangled up in my wheels I stopped and it immediately chomped on my calf. "WHAT THE FUCK DOG!! YOU FUCKING BIT ME!!!" I screamed in the middle of the road, hearing my voice echo over miles and miles of nothingness... "WHA-WHA-WHA-TH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-FAH-FAH-FAH-UCK-UCK-UCK-AH-AH-AH....?"
The dog the scurried back into the front lawn, continuing to bark as I yelled expletives at it and the house in the attempt to draw the owner outside to A. Scream at them and B. See if the dog was up to date on its shots. But nothing. I looked down and could see a swelling bulge coming through my legwarmer. I took a pic of the bite and the growling dog. FUCK!
All the good vibes that I had in the 10 miles leading up to the bite were gone. I pedaled in extreme anger and disappointment. I even saw ANOTHER pair of undies on the road and didn't even have the want to stop, laugh and take pic. I just hammered out the rest of my loop, cussing to myself and regretting the fact that it is socially unacceptable (and probably more than a bit nasty) to eat dog in the U.S., 'Cause I would have cooked up the biggest Roast Dog ever seen for dinner and toasted it's demise upon munching it. Hey, I guy can dream.
Once I got home I showered, cleaned the wound and got some lunch. As I ate, MY dog Jake munched on a new bone. Next thing I know... BLAH.... BLAHHHH! Dude is puking all over the dining room. Mounds of undigested dog food and stomach froth.... then BLAH... BLAH... he did it some more. FUCK! I have HAD IT with dogs.
Puke cleaned up.
Then I sit and stare at the wound, then put some ice on it and get the swelling down. I have a bad feeling about the whole thing so I e mail with Wifey. We decide the best course of action would be to go to the Urgent Care and get it looked at. So I do. I sit for 30 minutes, fill out a bunch of paperwork only to have them call me to the window and say I should go to the E.R. since they don't handle the rabies shots if I need them. CUSSSSS!!
Off to the E.R.... 45 minutes later I see the doctor. I get a tetanus shot, antibiotics, etc., etc., I then fill out some paperwork so that Animal Control can locate the beast and see if it is up to date on its shots (Spoiler Alert: It is, I just found out this a.m.). As I walk down the hall with the nurse I say "this is my 2nd trip to the E.R. here in less than a month, I was just here for my arm & shoulder after I crashed on some ice." To which she replies "Oh yeah! You're they guy who's arm was like twice the normal size and black and blue all over." "Yep, that was me alright... that was me...."
FINALLY 3 hours later at 6:30 p.m. I am home. CUSS!! I shove a mound of whole wheat spaghetti/spinach pesto in my mouth, scream at our dog, think of a way to sell or get rid of him and get ready to do the XXC Podcast with Z., B., and guest.
It's been one hell of a month...
1. Near broken arm/separated shoulder, continuing pain, etc. etc., from crash on ice.
2. A week of being sick.
3. Crank arm falls off during ride with Ryan.
4. Horrible race (sort of) at the Barry.
5. Bit by dog, followed by ANOTHER visit to the hospital.
6. Continued worry that my mag won't be around in a year.
My life is falling apart a little more each day. What a fucking train wreck.