Thursday, January 17, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
UPDATING?? ME?! No...surely not.
WOW. My dear, faithful readership, wherever you are--I appreciate you. Really. My life is divided into parts...kind of like how your brain is divided into hemispheres and lobes. I pretty faithfully neglect 89% of my lobes. Bathrobes?
Anyway I think we have all figured out that I am probably never going to really tell you what happened those last few days/weeks/month? of Bike the US for MS. And perhaps that is for the best. After all, if I revealed all of the Lizard mystery to you guys...what's to make you come back here?! Isn't there a saying... something like, "nobody wants a peach with a bite missing." Yeah! That's real.
Wait...that is from memoirs of a geisha. Um--let's move on, I guess.
So Here is a quick life update. For me, probably, as much as any of you who read this.
Graduate from college: check. Experience existential life crisis: check. Funnel all possible energies into one activity that may or may not lead to a sustainable lifestyle: check. Become an adult: LOLZ NO.
I have also recently (somewhat sadly) switched teams. (...ok that sounded like a hilarious euphemism, but it was not meant to. let's all be mature about this.)
Yep! I am now a member of the illustrious Rosebandits racing team...but I will never forget the team that took me when I could barely keep from running into the barricades at races and earnestly wondered whether or not underpants were to be worn with one's chamois. I will love team kenda forever with all of my lizard heart, and I strongly encourage everyone else to do the same.
It is sort of a funny story, the way I got in contact with the Rosebandits...it was a dark and stormy night.
HA, no, it was actually the middle of the day. And it was sunny out--blisteringly so! It was Florida State Road Race Champs...my motivation was a bit lacking. To be fair, I had been "in season" since the beginning of May, and at that point, we were about to flip the calendar on October. I debated racing espoirs on the Saturday but couldn't justify spending the money on a hotel just to be thoroughly crushed the day before the race I was actually gunning for. Also, one isn't really competing for money at State Champs...more like bragging rights, and if you come out on top, a sweet jersey mimicking the design of the Floridian state flag. My bank account was already sobbing from the thorough bleeding I'd put it through the last few months: plane tickets, speeding tickets (dang old texas), lady gaga tickets!
Naw, though, I didn't go see lady gaga. But...i did want to keep that parallel structure going. (I have a degree in english...)
I decided, in my wisdom, that the best, most viable option was to leave from my sister Emily's place in Tampa in the middle of the night. Literally, the middle of the night. I think it was like....2:30 AM. Because sleep is for the weak and soulless.
"Siri," I said, "how do I get to Clermont?"
"Sorry," Siri told me, "but I don't understand 'how do I get a cream soda'? Would you like me to search the web for 'how do I get a cream soda'?"
"GOD, SIRI, HOW YOU FAIL ME." I stuffed my phone into a cupholder and resigned myself to blind, twilight sign-following.
In retrospect, the drive was thoroughly enjoyable. I had nearly a thousand milligrams of sugar-free amp marching through my bloodstream, wreaking all manner of havoc on my adrenal glands and vital organs. I WAS ALIVE. I WAS ALIVE AND IT WAS 3 AM AND WOOOOOOOOOOO.
This euphoric hyperbole was not to last, though. No thanks to Siri, I rolled up on the race course just after 4:00 AM. I was in quite a different mood, indeed. My giddy caffeine giggles had been replaced by the soft, woeful sounds of bereavement and suffering. "Why Liz," I asked myself, "why would you do this....WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS."
But I had no answer for myself, and I rarely ever do.
I found the race course without difficulty; this was my second year attending and I was pretty familiar with the course. Even so, I drove it in a sleep-deprived haze, muttering to myself about potholes and corners and degrees of incline of hills.
My strategy was simple: do nothing, until I had to do something. I have proven to myself repeatedly that hills are probably not my forte. I mean, we were still in florida, so maybe it's more appropriate to just call them humps. But...apples and oranges. You know. words.
By now it was almost five. I was delirious, and in terrible need of snacks. I went to a gas station about three miles down the road, and purchased three sugar free red bulls, an obscenely large tub of water, some almonds, and a clif bar. The clif bar was because I am health conscious. I then returned to the race course to locate a place to nap.
In my mind, the idea of just stopping somewhere and sleeping in a minivan seemed at least moderately normal. I mean, why not? Minivans are huge! It is like a traveling hotel room, sans minibar! But in practice, it is less perfect than it seems. I mean, it is actually pretty close to perfect; My only real concern was, like...axe murderers. I locked all of the doors and hid under a blanket. Fears assuaged.
Sleep eluded me for several minutes--probably due to the clinical levels of caffeine i had consumed. But, it's anyone's guess! I listened to a rooster crowing idly nearby and soon drifted off.
I jumped awake again at about 8:00 AM, feeling as though someone had stolen all of my blood and replaced it with a mixture of sand and tissue paper. It was the feeling of utter death. Imagine being slapped repeatedly with a plank of wood and then doused in seltzer water. It's like that.
At this point, I seriously doubted my ability to produce very many watts, and wondered whether it was worth the entry fee to race. But I am the Lizard, and I have some sense of dignity to uphold, so wimping out isn't really a viable option.
I rose from my minvan cave and slapped on some bibs. I checked the time: thirty minutes out. "IS THIS REAL LIFE," I cried. It was.
I withdrew the clif bar from my snack cache and ate it. I then dumped all the red bull into my bottles. How did I convince myself red bull was a good mid-race hydrator--clinical insanity? All of my inhibitions and common sense-making had turned off somewhere around 4:30.
I signed up and paid the very lovely registration people (who I was becoming rather familiar with), and rolled over to the start/finish. I asked an official for the time: ten minutes out. Oh dear god. Why.
The field was a healthy thirty-or-so ladies, a mixture of all categories. I sometimes prefer it that way, but I do believe it can be discouraging to newer riders when they are forced to "race" people three categories higher than them. But...it also helps identify sandbaggers. There are pros and cons.
ANYWAY. The race began, as all races do, and I felt shockingly normal. I deemed it some sort of miracle and continued pedaling.
I attacked somewhere in the first or second lap (i can't really remember which), just to see what people would do in response, and I got a bit of a gap going. i was quickly joined by Rosebandits' Laura Parsons, who went by me going about 32 mph up a little dip just before the first turn. Moderately stunned, I clambered onto her wheel and made a mental note that this was probably her race to lose.
I can't remember whether that was the move that stuck or if we were sucked back in again--but the important thing is, it eventually came down to a breakaway of four: LP, myself, another lady whose name i forget (i am terrible), and one of the cat 3-4 ladies who had basically already won her race.
It came down to the sprint, and laura crushed everyone decisively. I just barely beat the woman who came in third place. It was like...a thumbnail between 2nd and 3rd. SWEET LORD.
ANYWAY. The moral of this story is, after the race, I told Laura, "hey that was sweet you totes crushed me" or something like that, and she was like, "oh yeah you should check out the rosebandits!" and i was like "yeah dawg!" except that i never said that. but you get the idea.
And so, one thorough rambly block of words later, you have the point of the story. I don't know, I felt like you guys deserved some words out of me.
ANYWAY (part deux), I have resolved to write in here at least twice a week. I mean, I'm going to be riding 6 days a week. So, by the laws of nature, at least 2 out of those 6 days will have to include some sort of hilarious crises, right? It has to happen! I don't think i'll lock myself into two specific days, but that might change along the lines if i become lazy.
I am beyond excited to keep going with training, do training camps, meet new people, commence the crushery, etc etc etc. I hope you'll all read this for my lizard thoughts, ridiculous opinions, race reports, pictures, and maybe a video every now and again.
UNTIL NEXT TIME.
Your faithful Lizard
Anyway I think we have all figured out that I am probably never going to really tell you what happened those last few days/weeks/month? of Bike the US for MS. And perhaps that is for the best. After all, if I revealed all of the Lizard mystery to you guys...what's to make you come back here?! Isn't there a saying... something like, "nobody wants a peach with a bite missing." Yeah! That's real.
Wait...that is from memoirs of a geisha. Um--let's move on, I guess.
So Here is a quick life update. For me, probably, as much as any of you who read this.
Graduate from college: check. Experience existential life crisis: check. Funnel all possible energies into one activity that may or may not lead to a sustainable lifestyle: check. Become an adult: LOLZ NO.
I have also recently (somewhat sadly) switched teams. (...ok that sounded like a hilarious euphemism, but it was not meant to. let's all be mature about this.)
Yep! I am now a member of the illustrious Rosebandits racing team...but I will never forget the team that took me when I could barely keep from running into the barricades at races and earnestly wondered whether or not underpants were to be worn with one's chamois. I will love team kenda forever with all of my lizard heart, and I strongly encourage everyone else to do the same.
It is sort of a funny story, the way I got in contact with the Rosebandits...it was a dark and stormy night.
HA, no, it was actually the middle of the day. And it was sunny out--blisteringly so! It was Florida State Road Race Champs...my motivation was a bit lacking. To be fair, I had been "in season" since the beginning of May, and at that point, we were about to flip the calendar on October. I debated racing espoirs on the Saturday but couldn't justify spending the money on a hotel just to be thoroughly crushed the day before the race I was actually gunning for. Also, one isn't really competing for money at State Champs...more like bragging rights, and if you come out on top, a sweet jersey mimicking the design of the Floridian state flag. My bank account was already sobbing from the thorough bleeding I'd put it through the last few months: plane tickets, speeding tickets (dang old texas), lady gaga tickets!
Naw, though, I didn't go see lady gaga. But...i did want to keep that parallel structure going. (I have a degree in english...)
I decided, in my wisdom, that the best, most viable option was to leave from my sister Emily's place in Tampa in the middle of the night. Literally, the middle of the night. I think it was like....2:30 AM. Because sleep is for the weak and soulless.
"Siri," I said, "how do I get to Clermont?"
"Sorry," Siri told me, "but I don't understand 'how do I get a cream soda'? Would you like me to search the web for 'how do I get a cream soda'?"
"GOD, SIRI, HOW YOU FAIL ME." I stuffed my phone into a cupholder and resigned myself to blind, twilight sign-following.
In retrospect, the drive was thoroughly enjoyable. I had nearly a thousand milligrams of sugar-free amp marching through my bloodstream, wreaking all manner of havoc on my adrenal glands and vital organs. I WAS ALIVE. I WAS ALIVE AND IT WAS 3 AM AND WOOOOOOOOOOO.
This euphoric hyperbole was not to last, though. No thanks to Siri, I rolled up on the race course just after 4:00 AM. I was in quite a different mood, indeed. My giddy caffeine giggles had been replaced by the soft, woeful sounds of bereavement and suffering. "Why Liz," I asked myself, "why would you do this....WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS."
But I had no answer for myself, and I rarely ever do.
I found the race course without difficulty; this was my second year attending and I was pretty familiar with the course. Even so, I drove it in a sleep-deprived haze, muttering to myself about potholes and corners and degrees of incline of hills.
My strategy was simple: do nothing, until I had to do something. I have proven to myself repeatedly that hills are probably not my forte. I mean, we were still in florida, so maybe it's more appropriate to just call them humps. But...apples and oranges. You know. words.
By now it was almost five. I was delirious, and in terrible need of snacks. I went to a gas station about three miles down the road, and purchased three sugar free red bulls, an obscenely large tub of water, some almonds, and a clif bar. The clif bar was because I am health conscious. I then returned to the race course to locate a place to nap.
In my mind, the idea of just stopping somewhere and sleeping in a minivan seemed at least moderately normal. I mean, why not? Minivans are huge! It is like a traveling hotel room, sans minibar! But in practice, it is less perfect than it seems. I mean, it is actually pretty close to perfect; My only real concern was, like...axe murderers. I locked all of the doors and hid under a blanket. Fears assuaged.
Sleep eluded me for several minutes--probably due to the clinical levels of caffeine i had consumed. But, it's anyone's guess! I listened to a rooster crowing idly nearby and soon drifted off.
I jumped awake again at about 8:00 AM, feeling as though someone had stolen all of my blood and replaced it with a mixture of sand and tissue paper. It was the feeling of utter death. Imagine being slapped repeatedly with a plank of wood and then doused in seltzer water. It's like that.
At this point, I seriously doubted my ability to produce very many watts, and wondered whether it was worth the entry fee to race. But I am the Lizard, and I have some sense of dignity to uphold, so wimping out isn't really a viable option.
I rose from my minvan cave and slapped on some bibs. I checked the time: thirty minutes out. "IS THIS REAL LIFE," I cried. It was.
I withdrew the clif bar from my snack cache and ate it. I then dumped all the red bull into my bottles. How did I convince myself red bull was a good mid-race hydrator--clinical insanity? All of my inhibitions and common sense-making had turned off somewhere around 4:30.
I signed up and paid the very lovely registration people (who I was becoming rather familiar with), and rolled over to the start/finish. I asked an official for the time: ten minutes out. Oh dear god. Why.
The field was a healthy thirty-or-so ladies, a mixture of all categories. I sometimes prefer it that way, but I do believe it can be discouraging to newer riders when they are forced to "race" people three categories higher than them. But...it also helps identify sandbaggers. There are pros and cons.
ANYWAY. The race began, as all races do, and I felt shockingly normal. I deemed it some sort of miracle and continued pedaling.
I attacked somewhere in the first or second lap (i can't really remember which), just to see what people would do in response, and I got a bit of a gap going. i was quickly joined by Rosebandits' Laura Parsons, who went by me going about 32 mph up a little dip just before the first turn. Moderately stunned, I clambered onto her wheel and made a mental note that this was probably her race to lose.
I can't remember whether that was the move that stuck or if we were sucked back in again--but the important thing is, it eventually came down to a breakaway of four: LP, myself, another lady whose name i forget (i am terrible), and one of the cat 3-4 ladies who had basically already won her race.
It came down to the sprint, and laura crushed everyone decisively. I just barely beat the woman who came in third place. It was like...a thumbnail between 2nd and 3rd. SWEET LORD.
ANYWAY. The moral of this story is, after the race, I told Laura, "hey that was sweet you totes crushed me" or something like that, and she was like, "oh yeah you should check out the rosebandits!" and i was like "yeah dawg!" except that i never said that. but you get the idea.
And so, one thorough rambly block of words later, you have the point of the story. I don't know, I felt like you guys deserved some words out of me.
ANYWAY (part deux), I have resolved to write in here at least twice a week. I mean, I'm going to be riding 6 days a week. So, by the laws of nature, at least 2 out of those 6 days will have to include some sort of hilarious crises, right? It has to happen! I don't think i'll lock myself into two specific days, but that might change along the lines if i become lazy.
I am beyond excited to keep going with training, do training camps, meet new people, commence the crushery, etc etc etc. I hope you'll all read this for my lizard thoughts, ridiculous opinions, race reports, pictures, and maybe a video every now and again.
UNTIL NEXT TIME.
Your faithful Lizard
Thursday, November 22, 2012
OH HELLO
Yes, I am still here. I know I have neglected you.
The past few months have been interesting. I raced over mountains and swamps and stuff. It was like living in Lord of the Rings. But...also not at all.
It is winter, as you probably noticed when you went outside somewhere that is NOT naples, FL, and that means the Lizard must do base miles, and several of them. I did a string of 4 hour days when my grandmother was here visiting and she asked, "how far do you think you go on those rides?"
I said, "well, today I did eighty."
To which she replied, "eighty...what?"
"Miles...?" D'AWWWWWWW.
It is weird how you get used to things. Two years ago, if you had told me to go ride four hours a day four days in a row, i might have laughed or cried in your face. But now, I sort of think of 3 hours as being short. I believe this is also impacted by the pancake-like surface that I cycle upon. But...i mean, we can blame those darn higher powers for that one.
I have reached a point in my life where I am not exactly sure what the best path forward is. I am a college graduate, but the only thing I seem to have taken from that is the ability to pedal really hard and endure moderate amounts of suffering. With the help of retrospective 20-20 vision, I often feel happiest when investing myself 2000000% into something I think I can win at, because THAT IS THE POINT RIGHT?!?? And of course, when the way forward is blocked, I want to quit whatever it is that I have spent 2000000000000 mana points on and try something else. Because it is the progress that is so good! It makes you feel like you are going somewhere!
Do you know I used to want to be on broadway!? and then...I realized I can't sing. So i was like, SCREW YOU GUYS IMMA DO SPORTS. Then i did cross country. I ran 12 miles a day for my whole first (and only) competitive season. When i graduated and went to college where--surprise--i was comparatively HORRIBLE even at my fastest ever, I became disillusioned and decided I'd do something new.
I blame being a gemini....we always feel like we are missing out on something. And maybe we are.
The past few months have been interesting. I raced over mountains and swamps and stuff. It was like living in Lord of the Rings. But...also not at all.
It is winter, as you probably noticed when you went outside somewhere that is NOT naples, FL, and that means the Lizard must do base miles, and several of them. I did a string of 4 hour days when my grandmother was here visiting and she asked, "how far do you think you go on those rides?"
I said, "well, today I did eighty."
To which she replied, "eighty...what?"
"Miles...?" D'AWWWWWWW.
It is weird how you get used to things. Two years ago, if you had told me to go ride four hours a day four days in a row, i might have laughed or cried in your face. But now, I sort of think of 3 hours as being short. I believe this is also impacted by the pancake-like surface that I cycle upon. But...i mean, we can blame those darn higher powers for that one.
I have reached a point in my life where I am not exactly sure what the best path forward is. I am a college graduate, but the only thing I seem to have taken from that is the ability to pedal really hard and endure moderate amounts of suffering. With the help of retrospective 20-20 vision, I often feel happiest when investing myself 2000000% into something I think I can win at, because THAT IS THE POINT RIGHT?!?? And of course, when the way forward is blocked, I want to quit whatever it is that I have spent 2000000000000 mana points on and try something else. Because it is the progress that is so good! It makes you feel like you are going somewhere!
Do you know I used to want to be on broadway!? and then...I realized I can't sing. So i was like, SCREW YOU GUYS IMMA DO SPORTS. Then i did cross country. I ran 12 miles a day for my whole first (and only) competitive season. When i graduated and went to college where--surprise--i was comparatively HORRIBLE even at my fastest ever, I became disillusioned and decided I'd do something new.
I blame being a gemini....we always feel like we are missing out on something. And maybe we are.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
So i am filled with weird feeling today. I am filled with endorphins, as I am now doing 2-a-day VO2 intervals and my existence is marked by suffering. But in a good way. Every time i go out, i just pretend that I am battling with the forces of evil and I must crush them or resign all that is good and nice to an untimely destruction. It is empowering.
But it is so easy to see an article like THIS one and feel like everything is just a waste of time. If Emma Pooley can't keep herself on a team, what is there for a little lizard to reach for?
It is easy to say it is unfair. It is easy to quit. But I cannot. What else is there?
But it is so easy to see an article like THIS one and feel like everything is just a waste of time. If Emma Pooley can't keep herself on a team, what is there for a little lizard to reach for?
It is easy to say it is unfair. It is easy to quit. But I cannot. What else is there?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Up on my wiggle.
Meow, my friends! Do you get the title? Like...up on my grind?! DO YOU?
Today is yet another day in a series of days that have all become mostly the same, but also different. I find this comforting, the pattern of it all: Get up. Insert caffeine IV drip. Crush. Go to work. Drive around in a golf cart. Rescue lost dog named Mowgli. Knock self out with Melatonin. Repeat.
Since Mr. Scot of bicycle house advised me to stop eating corn syrup, I've lost like...15 lbs! That's practically the weight of a fat baby. Or....Don Pedro. To be fair, he also said to stop drinking 5 beers every weekend night. TRUE WISDOM!!!!! When I finally reach my birth weight, my power to weight ratio will be like...10,000 watts per kilo. I will be unstoppable, like Robert De Niro in Cape Fear. (Imagine a lizard hanging from the undercarriage of your car....BWAHAHAHA.)
So I am currently in the training. Yes. It is fun. There is a calendar, constructed by my marvelous coach Mr. Brady Irwin, of the great and wonderful Science of Speed, filled with boxes of activities. I simply do the activities and transform into a monster. I can say "Sorry, I cannot go eat crepes with you, I have to go put in 80,000 more miles," to people finishing the group rides. The look of confusion they give me is glorious and empowering.
It seems that with this sort of lifestyle, it is impossible to see other humans simply because my whole day is blocked into little sections like a jenga tower. I found this frustrating at first, but then I started talking to my bicycle, and now I live in the pointy part of Maslow's pyramid. OR DO I?!
Work is truly soul crushing, but I use the time i am not on the golf cart screaming at children to get out of the pool to work on my masterwork of fiction that shall become the next children/adult craze. IT. WILL. SWEET LORD, if only one did not need money in order to bicycle. I swear, I feel my soul being plucked out like a little eyebrow hair, follicle and all, SO SLOWLY EVERYDAY ASDSADG.
When I am wealthier than God, I am going to make some company design me a bike and call it either "Lizard Whip" or "The Wiggle." Tour of the elk grove is in 9 days, and little charlotte and i shall depart in the trusty minivan in 7.
Also, I got a large pile of Gu items from the amazing Promotive.com today. FREAKING YAY. Here is a picture of my new socks:
Today is yet another day in a series of days that have all become mostly the same, but also different. I find this comforting, the pattern of it all: Get up. Insert caffeine IV drip. Crush. Go to work. Drive around in a golf cart. Rescue lost dog named Mowgli. Knock self out with Melatonin. Repeat.
Since Mr. Scot of bicycle house advised me to stop eating corn syrup, I've lost like...15 lbs! That's practically the weight of a fat baby. Or....Don Pedro. To be fair, he also said to stop drinking 5 beers every weekend night. TRUE WISDOM!!!!! When I finally reach my birth weight, my power to weight ratio will be like...10,000 watts per kilo. I will be unstoppable, like Robert De Niro in Cape Fear. (Imagine a lizard hanging from the undercarriage of your car....BWAHAHAHA.)
So I am currently in the training. Yes. It is fun. There is a calendar, constructed by my marvelous coach Mr. Brady Irwin, of the great and wonderful Science of Speed, filled with boxes of activities. I simply do the activities and transform into a monster. I can say "Sorry, I cannot go eat crepes with you, I have to go put in 80,000 more miles," to people finishing the group rides. The look of confusion they give me is glorious and empowering.
It seems that with this sort of lifestyle, it is impossible to see other humans simply because my whole day is blocked into little sections like a jenga tower. I found this frustrating at first, but then I started talking to my bicycle, and now I live in the pointy part of Maslow's pyramid. OR DO I?!
Work is truly soul crushing, but I use the time i am not on the golf cart screaming at children to get out of the pool to work on my masterwork of fiction that shall become the next children/adult craze. IT. WILL. SWEET LORD, if only one did not need money in order to bicycle. I swear, I feel my soul being plucked out like a little eyebrow hair, follicle and all, SO SLOWLY EVERYDAY ASDSADG.
When I am wealthier than God, I am going to make some company design me a bike and call it either "Lizard Whip" or "The Wiggle." Tour of the elk grove is in 9 days, and little charlotte and i shall depart in the trusty minivan in 7.
Also, I got a large pile of Gu items from the amazing Promotive.com today. FREAKING YAY. Here is a picture of my new socks:
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Bad bad bopping spokes
Hello, my bicycling minions.
Today was a first in my bicycle handbook, and a terrible first indeed. Like the first christmas you realize Santa is actually your mother and an embarrassing facial hair thing.
Yes. I broke a spoke. My easton wheels now fill me with negative emotions such as terror, horror, nightsweats, and hallucinations.
I began the day at the buttcrack of dawn, joining the naples velo crew. We were to go peel around Olde Naples at breakneck speeds, head east back towards the Gerrity palace, and then loop up to Bonita and back to the Naples Cyclery for the Tour. And a cookie, for the weak and gluten tolerant.
The mornings in South Florida are not nice so much as they are bearable, but next to the prospect of going out riding during the heat of day, they seem comparatively divine. After 8 AM, Naples becomes a bog.
I am saying this as a preface to my woe; the group ride split up/I was dropped and humiliated don't look at me after about two hours. Me and my new buddies Leslie and Kurt decided to make a Walgreens stop (GATORADE!!!!!! I'm plugging Gatorade.) and then they headed back to the shop to watch Peter Sagan's butt menacing all the civilized world in full HD. I still needed another hour and a half before I reached my 3.5 hour quota....and so on I went. Into the bog.
I think the sound is the weirdest part about riding in naples--not because it's trafficky, but because it's just Naples. It's a combination of weird bugs shrieking and elderly drivers laying on their horns when they notice a bicycle in/on/near the street. I went along at a modest clip, as my soul had just been thoroughly crushed.
Then--! suddenly! my tire was trying to make out with my fork! LIKE GROSS PDA MUCH. So I stopped, cursed my life, and noticed a spoke dangling from the hub, cleanly cut from the little indenture at the rim side. WHY. WHY DO TINY NINJA SWORDSMEN CURSE ME.
So then I sat there. HM. I said. How convenient for this to happen when I still need to put thirty minutes in. Is the world convinced to see this lizard fail? Maybe. I took off my shoes and resolved to walk to the nearest bike store...five miles south.
But I then realized that Don Pedro was more gimped than I had guessed at first measure! I couldn't just roll the bike next to me, it was too out of true. So i picked him up and saddled him over my shoulder, in the style of firefighters rescuing children, or a sack of potatoes. And so it began.
Just kidding, that got old after like three squares of concrete. I got out my phone and called my mother.
"MOM PICK ME UP," quoth the lizard.
"Oh dear, we're already to the Charlotte airport...."
Ironic, because it was due to the braininess of my little sister, also called Charlotte, that the pair were in the car speeding off toward Gainesville being wooed by the Gators. I needed a new plan.
"I AM HANGING UP, MOTHER." Lizard resolve, level nine.
I called my dad. He did not answer.
"I will just call my friends!" I said. I looked at my phone. I looked up at the sun. I looked back at my phone. I dialed my father a second time.
"Dad," I said "Can you come pick me up?"
"I gotta jump in the shower!"
I could not respond to this, and so resolved to die on the side of the road. But wait! There's more!
This is the moment a nice woman named Tina rode up next to me and took pity on my plight. She called up her husband (I think....?!), Mark, and bade him come collect the sad little creature she had found. And come he did, with his Ford F-150. It was even white.
I was like, "you are my knight in shining Ford F-150!" and Tina was all "BACK UP OFF MY MAN."
Just kidding, that didn't really happen.
So that is how I ended up barefoot in the truck of a total stranger. Um. See, my thing is, how can I trust these wheels again!? When it really comes down to it...and the sizable real estate that is my butt is balancing on my 15lb machine...they could just POP OFF. When that day comes....I will tell you all of my asphalt facial.
UNTIL SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS TO ME,
adieu.
Today was a first in my bicycle handbook, and a terrible first indeed. Like the first christmas you realize Santa is actually your mother and an embarrassing facial hair thing.
Yes. I broke a spoke. My easton wheels now fill me with negative emotions such as terror, horror, nightsweats, and hallucinations.
I began the day at the buttcrack of dawn, joining the naples velo crew. We were to go peel around Olde Naples at breakneck speeds, head east back towards the Gerrity palace, and then loop up to Bonita and back to the Naples Cyclery for the Tour. And a cookie, for the weak and gluten tolerant.
The mornings in South Florida are not nice so much as they are bearable, but next to the prospect of going out riding during the heat of day, they seem comparatively divine. After 8 AM, Naples becomes a bog.
I am saying this as a preface to my woe; the group ride split up/
I think the sound is the weirdest part about riding in naples--not because it's trafficky, but because it's just Naples. It's a combination of weird bugs shrieking and elderly drivers laying on their horns when they notice a bicycle in/on/near the street. I went along at a modest clip, as my soul had just been thoroughly crushed.
Then--! suddenly! my tire was trying to make out with my fork! LIKE GROSS PDA MUCH. So I stopped, cursed my life, and noticed a spoke dangling from the hub, cleanly cut from the little indenture at the rim side. WHY. WHY DO TINY NINJA SWORDSMEN CURSE ME.
So then I sat there. HM. I said. How convenient for this to happen when I still need to put thirty minutes in. Is the world convinced to see this lizard fail? Maybe. I took off my shoes and resolved to walk to the nearest bike store...five miles south.
But I then realized that Don Pedro was more gimped than I had guessed at first measure! I couldn't just roll the bike next to me, it was too out of true. So i picked him up and saddled him over my shoulder, in the style of firefighters rescuing children, or a sack of potatoes. And so it began.
Just kidding, that got old after like three squares of concrete. I got out my phone and called my mother.
"MOM PICK ME UP," quoth the lizard.
"Oh dear, we're already to the Charlotte airport...."
Ironic, because it was due to the braininess of my little sister, also called Charlotte, that the pair were in the car speeding off toward Gainesville being wooed by the Gators. I needed a new plan.
"I AM HANGING UP, MOTHER." Lizard resolve, level nine.
I called my dad. He did not answer.
"I will just call my friends!" I said. I looked at my phone. I looked up at the sun. I looked back at my phone. I dialed my father a second time.
"Dad," I said "Can you come pick me up?"
"I gotta jump in the shower!"
I could not respond to this, and so resolved to die on the side of the road. But wait! There's more!
This is the moment a nice woman named Tina rode up next to me and took pity on my plight. She called up her husband (I think....?!), Mark, and bade him come collect the sad little creature she had found. And come he did, with his Ford F-150. It was even white.
I was like, "you are my knight in shining Ford F-150!" and Tina was all "BACK UP OFF MY MAN."
Just kidding, that didn't really happen.
So that is how I ended up barefoot in the truck of a total stranger. Um. See, my thing is, how can I trust these wheels again!? When it really comes down to it...and the sizable real estate that is my butt is balancing on my 15lb machine...they could just POP OFF. When that day comes....I will tell you all of my asphalt facial.
UNTIL SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS TO ME,
adieu.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
I'm going to start writing in here more because college is over, and I am a real live adult and I do what I want.
So i woke up today, and I said "HM! HOW CAN I BETTER SERVE MY BLOG FOLLOWERS (all nine of you)!" Note that I said it, and did not ask it, because the Lizard knows all and asks nothing.
ANYWAY, I decided I would tell you all the recipe for a magical smoothie. Yes. It is filled with ingredients. One might even say that it is more like a little liquefied creature than a fruity drink. Yes, you can call him fruity. He is secure in his sexuality.
So here it is.
LIZARD SMOOTHIE OF GREEN POWER AND ORGAN FURY!!!!!!!!!!!
(the exclamation points are part of the title, so you must shout the smoothie's name whenst you refer to him)
STEP ONE:
Get dat blender.
This is an integral step. Your veggies are not going to puree themselves.
STEP TWO:
Get them bananas.
Just one actually. Peel that thing.
STEP THREE: Other vegetables.
Put in some kale. And some other green things you would normally look at and say "That is what food eats." EAT IT, WEAKLING. also, add a lemon. And the secret!? CINNAMON. put it in. DO NOT QUESTION THE LIZARD
STEP FOUR: some fruity junk
Now you can put in any fruit that you like. DO IT. You need vitamins, little nugget! I like mango. Generally just add whatever you like.
STEP FIVE: put some liquid in there! and ice!
because if you just try blending dry things, your blender will catch fire or explode. trust me, I KNOW.
STEP SIX: taste it
is it disgusting? if you said yes, slap yourself and apologize to the smoothie. If you said no, then get a straw and drink that thing.
Sometimes, i put protein in it too, but be warned, this will make the smoothie revolting no matter what is in it! TRULY REVOLTING, the taste of yucky fruit milk! I am not lying.
ENJOY!!!!!!
Love,
A person with happy organs
So i woke up today, and I said "HM! HOW CAN I BETTER SERVE MY BLOG FOLLOWERS (all nine of you)!" Note that I said it, and did not ask it, because the Lizard knows all and asks nothing.
ANYWAY, I decided I would tell you all the recipe for a magical smoothie. Yes. It is filled with ingredients. One might even say that it is more like a little liquefied creature than a fruity drink. Yes, you can call him fruity. He is secure in his sexuality.
So here it is.
LIZARD SMOOTHIE OF GREEN POWER AND ORGAN FURY!!!!!!!!!!!
(the exclamation points are part of the title, so you must shout the smoothie's name whenst you refer to him)
STEP ONE:
Get dat blender.
This is an integral step. Your veggies are not going to puree themselves.
STEP TWO:
Get them bananas.
Just one actually. Peel that thing.
STEP THREE: Other vegetables.
Put in some kale. And some other green things you would normally look at and say "That is what food eats." EAT IT, WEAKLING. also, add a lemon. And the secret!? CINNAMON. put it in. DO NOT QUESTION THE LIZARD
STEP FOUR: some fruity junk
Now you can put in any fruit that you like. DO IT. You need vitamins, little nugget! I like mango. Generally just add whatever you like.
STEP FIVE: put some liquid in there! and ice!
because if you just try blending dry things, your blender will catch fire or explode. trust me, I KNOW.
STEP SIX: taste it
is it disgusting? if you said yes, slap yourself and apologize to the smoothie. If you said no, then get a straw and drink that thing.
Sometimes, i put protein in it too, but be warned, this will make the smoothie revolting no matter what is in it! TRULY REVOLTING, the taste of yucky fruit milk! I am not lying.
ENJOY!!!!!!
Love,
A person with happy organs
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