Stupid Hurts

Looking at my bike, it took the worse of it, but my eye is trying its best to swell shut.

I was leaving a store with Ben when we saw a group of messengers who knew me and told us about a bicycle race that was coming up in a few hours. The race was part of a benefit to raise money for a messenger who had been hit by a car and had his neck broken.  I think some people just need a small excuse to get drunk and some of us just need a small reason to race. Before the race had started some of the guys where already getting started drinking.

The race started with four people. There would have been five, but one of the guys popped both of his tires in the process of getting ready. (Probably a sign you need to stay home.) I was a little unfamiliar with Atlanta so I had a map drawn for me. We got moving and were holding a pretty fast pace. I didn’t feel really good and several times I thought about quitting, but I couldn’t just let myself quit. Somewhere shortly before the third stop I pulled out my manifest so I could check my map, and figure out where I was. I probably should have slowed to below twenty mph. I got hit by another bicyclist in the race who was going to cut through the parking lot I was in front of. I was moving fast enough to hit the ground and slid and have time to think “I hope I don’t slide into that curb.”  Once everything settled I was hoping I didn’t have a seizure on the side of the road, then I thought about my camera since it was in my bag. The other guy who crashed was one a brakeless fixed gear, so there were not a whole lot of moving parts. So once he got stretched out he was able to get moving again. We were both in first so I was hoping he would make, I found out he and someone else caught a flat tire later. So Ben won by default.

I picked up my bike, and was hoping to ride it to the next stop. It didn’t agree with me in the slightest bit. My bike looked like the back of a dress on prom night, There is no happy word it.  Even after adjusting the brakes and screwing with the drivetrain it was obviously not being pedaled anywhere. So I just threw it over my shoulder and started walking to the next stop. I stopped by a Krispy Kreme on the way when blood started getting into my eye, and I have learned people take their doughnuts pretty seriously in Atlanta, and you can get to the front of bathroom line pretty easily when you are dripping blood. It was swarming with people in the Krispy Kreme, and I had never seen someone sit down with the intention of eating an entire box of doughnuts. Apparently this is a fairly common thing.

The worst part of all of this, is the fact I spent a solid hour getting lectured by my dad about racing, crashing and hurting myself on my bicycle a few days ago.

The weather was perfect so and I attended the Birmingham Bicycle club group ride. I have been looking forward to riding with them for several weeks partially because I rode with them most of the winter and I miss some of those guys.

When I got there, there was about 50 people in attendance. Several familiar faces, but lots of people I didn’t know. I was still stoked about getting to ride to ride with new people but there is always an inherent risk. Eventually we took off and kept a fairly healthy pace through several tight neighborhoods. Considering the size of the crowd and the width of the turns I was hoping everyone was paying attention and ended up riding a bit more cautiously than normally. There is another group ride I have heard of on Tuesday night that leaves from somewhere else that apparently has a surprisingly high incident of crashes.

Well about 17 miles or so in I was passing a guy on the left when he stands up to sprint. When he does he loses his back tire and the bike gets wiggly underneath him. I dropped my shoulder sat on my seat and pulled up close next to him and he just leaned on me for a few seconds until he got steady.

Unfortunately that was just enough stress to put me over my seizure threshold. So I quickly pulled my bike over into the grass and had a seizure and passed out. I woke up thirty minutes or so later in the back of an ambulance without my bicycle and an I.V. in my arm…..again.

So I am riding my bike home after doing some more volunteer work at the bicycle co-op and I decide to ride a more relaxed pace that normal. Mostly because I felt like crap anyway. While ascending from the bottom of the hill I saw a person slam their bicycle into the triangular median and take a head first dive onto the pavement. No bracing with his hands or anything, just a head first dive onto the pavement. I then sprint up to him thinking this could be bad. Once I get my own bike situated I helped him up and proceed to check him for a concussion in the most unobtrusive way possible.

Since no good deed goes ever unpunished, and I had been trying not to laugh the entire time, since the guy had basically face planted right in front of me. While I was wrapping up our conversation, I had a petite seizure. I can’t talk while having these and I only have limited motor function. At this point my new best friend decided he wanted a hug and thank me for stopping to help him. At that point I really just wanted to stand there for a second wait for my head to clear, and then go home.

Lately I have lost several truly [tag]epic[/tag] [tag]blog[/tag] [tag]entries[/tag] or they have been a lot less than detailed than I would have liked, because they were not committed to paper fast enough. Usually what goes into the creation of a good blog post is; something interesting happens, then I replay the events back in my head several times, it helps if I have pictures because I edit them at this point, then I usually walk back and forth and tell the story out loud to develop a pace. Some of the post on this site you can tell were originally developed to be told in person. If you have ever had the good fortune to hear me tell the “Frozen toy story” it sounds well practiced because it really is. Lastly once I am satisfied that I write a rough draft and edit it once or twice before uploading it, unfortunately even then sometimes I miss errors.

Recently I have been trying to use this same method of writing and either I get frustrated because I can’t recall enough detail from the event to satisfy me, or I end up aggravated because I keep finding huge grammatical errors. I think I am going to have to mix up my writing style some and start committing things to notebook before I type them up and try to develop my pacing from that. I hate doing that due to the amount of work involved but it has worked in the past, and hopefully it will lend to something more akin to previous levels of quality.

I make it a point to keep a notebook with me. I think I am going to start making notes for blog post more and more often now.

My bike is a cold steel bitch.

It pushes me to go harder, to go faster. to want more. It makes me wants to spin until my legs melt, to sprint until my I can taste my lungs, and to climb until I see only God.

Earlier this week I changed the seat position on my fixed gear bike into a much more aggressive stance, since I know I have gotten stronger since I started riding it. At first I thought I ruined the ride quality and felt like I would be changing it back shortly. But then I adopted a low fighters crouch. My hands out in front of me, head tucked down eyes raised up. And everything changed.

This was no longer dancing. This was a fight.

I made is across town in a record time. I think I may have set a pace that rivals the times I usually go for on my geared bike.

I was standing next to my front door, grinning from ear to ear and I realized the only things I remembered from the entire ride home were the streaks of light as they shot past the corners of my eyes. And the words harder, faster. more, coming from the cold steel bitch between my legs.

I was told today that I seemed way too efficient for someone who has just gone through as many major events in a short period of time as I have . According to her I should be depressed and crying in a corner somewhere. She said I should not be trying to get furniture for my apartment, out running errands, or helping my friends with their issues. I tried to explain to her that I am extremely depressed, but I need to get stuff done more so than I need to hide in a corner and cry.

But there is my near total lack of catharsis. I don’t have a lot of ways to unwind really. Plus I have only been let out of the house once to see my friends since I have been back in Alabama, and I have been lectured several times for being on the telephone to often even though it is my personal cell phone. I now understand why tigers pace in their cages. I have been reading and doing push-ups to kill the time. I am up to 150+ push-ups for the day.

Fortunately I am a little closer to getting my bicycle back, so then I will be able to get out ride and relax some. Maybe even have some time to myself alone to think and clear my head. My mom also said she will loosen up on the whole “constant supervision thing” once I get my bicycle. She agreed to let me out during the day by myself.

Another Tuesday and another 20 mile group ride from the bike shop to Perkins. More of the “The Red Dirt Pedalers” than usual decided to show up and play with us today. The fast group showed up for a change, the guys I have dubbed “The Dogs Of War.” These guys only show up when the weather is nice, clad in their brightly colored lycra and straddling painfully expensive bicycles. Each one just bristling for a chance to out preform one of the others. While getting my own bike prepped for the ride I actually head on of the guys tell someone, “I must break you.” In his best Drago voice. [newline]

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We kept up a pretty fast pace all the way there and back and I had a blast riding with these guys as usual. Of course my legs hurt now but I am stillhappy. I also realized I am not really cut out for mountain biking, and I really prefer life on a road.

It has been seven days since my last blog post here. I really hate letting StupidHurts go for that long without updates, but I have not been motivated to write lately. Granted I never was a literary powerhouse, but it is nice to keep my site somewhat up to date. It has been tricky lately partially because of the Mono, and since I haven’t been using my camera much lately, I think that my writing is missing a much needed visual component. It is nice to have pictures to reference when I am typing up the silliness that occurs in my day to day life.

My current goal is to quit being so picky about my shots and take more pictures over the next two weeks. Maybe it will help to inspire my writing just a little bit more.

Last Tuesday I took a bicycle ride with some of my co-workers and a few members of the local bicycle club. While getting prepped I met a guy named Franco, we chatted for a bit and I made note of the fact he was wearing a bright yellow leader jersey from the 1992 Tour De France. We slowly pedaled to the edge of town and then Franco took the lead. I followed him patiently for about ten feet before I took the lead and increased the pace. Then I realized something.

I am and addict. And this is now a race.

Just south of town there are several nice rolling hills. We stretched our legs out as we warmed up and steadily increased our speed.

As we got further out of town the road got a bit more interesting. Soon we had a nice ten foot wide shoulder to ride on. The hills began to rise and fall beneath us. The entire time we were pedaling about 19-20 miles an hour and I was thinking to myself, “I don’t normally climb at 20, can I keep this pace up for 25 more miles?” The miles and scenery were flashing by in a quick blur of green and brown at this point. If I were to ride back through I would not be able to point out a single road mark I passed because I was completely focused on each revolution of my pedals.

Then I found a brief reprieve from my efforts. Near the half way point my tire blows and goes completely flat. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem but I remembered saying before leaving the house, “I won’t need my spare inner tube.” Luckily someone else had a spare. I was almost ready to go when my new inner tube went flat as well. I told the guys to go ahead without me and I would have my friends bring me a spare inner tube so I could catch them on the way back to town.

My friends brought me an inner tube and hung out with me as I got my bicycle prepare to head back into town. When the group passed back by I fell back into the pace line. And this time when Franco attacked my pride forced me to follow,I chose not to draft him but to ride next to him. I didn’t want him to pull me through the headwind back towards town.

We are carrying a much harder pace now and I feel like I am fighting for every few feet. After ten miles I felt my energy starting to wane.We enter town at over 25 miles an hour and I decide to push myself and sprint away from Franco hoping to catch a red light soon to catch my breath before he catches me.

Eventually Franco caught up and told me had a great time and will ride with me again. Then he turns off to go home. Well who do I race now?

The rest of the pack hadn’t caught up with me yet, so I rode back to the shop at a slow leisurely pace to reflect on the warm and fuzzy feeling I had.

Such is the life of an addict.

I am stressed and I am really pissed right now. Any day I don’t have to work with my supervisor I love my job. But any day we are sent out into the field together I hate it. HE frustrates me and he stresses me out. He moves too slowly and complains that I move too quickly, and when I attempt to match his pace he complains I am not doing anything. He asked my why I ask so many questions, and I told him, because I need better answers and do not intend to have to come back later to ask about the same issue. He pisses and moans about the number of tools I carry, but is constantly asking to borrow my stuff.

I am stressed to the point my OCD is giving me issues. I left home this morning on time and got around the corner before having to return home to push the button to my alarm clock to make sure it was off. I ended up pushing the button thirteen times before I could make it to the front door and to work. At work four brackets on a desk didn’t have the same number of screws in them, and I wasn’t allowed to even them out. and my boss wouldn’t tell me which set was right and which set was wrong so I could correct it. I actually almost got angry enough to hit him over it. I just threatened to quit instead. I don’t think he took me seriously. Later I was building cubicles and the set I was doing, didn’t match the set across from me. Nor are my brackets laid out neatly enough for me, and my boss won’t let me go back and make it right. I told him, they don’t match. And he told me not to worry. I don’t think he understands I can’t let it go.

I may sneak in early tomorrow and fix it

Brundidge-[tag]Prattville[/tag]

I was pretty sore most of the day yesterday. I have realized that slow days make the fast days possible, and that I can’t go balls out every single day.

Luckily for a big chunk of the day I had a generous [tag]tailwind[/tag] from the south. At one point I was beating along at just a hair over 30 miles an hour. I saw a [tag]cop[/tag] sitting over the the grass to my left, and I assumed he would ignore me since I was on a bicycle. Then I see him raise his [tag]radar[/tag] gun and shoot me. I know he shot me because as I blitzed past him I saw him staring at the display on the radar gun clearly baffled. I could not help but smile to myself about that one for the rest of the day.

Somewhere after 50 miles I couldn’t get back onto my pace. I figured since I wasn’t going to get into a comfortable groove I may as well see how far I can go before I have to quit. I didn’t really think that one through very well. Because at this point I had eaten most of my snacks and was nearly out of water from fending off several dogs earlier in the day.

Realizing this after the 70 mile mark I decided to push ahead anyway. And thing were going great until my headlight started to get dim and I could see less and less of the road. Then I noticed all of the lights were getting dim, and I was having problems keeping my bike on the road. After a few more miles I realized what was happening. I was going blind. This had happened before once at a [tag]track[/tag] meet, so I knew what I had to do. Find food and water quickly, luckily for me I passed a well placed all night [tag]MacDonald’s[/tag] and was was able to rest and resupply. I would have hated to be taken out by a rookie mistake like that.

The Day In Numbers
Miles: 84
Average Speed: 11.8
Max: 33.7
Total Mileage: 538.1