There certainly has to be a stronger expletive than Fuck with which to describe the past 6 days here in KC, where the wind has been akin to a belt sander upon one's face, and the temperature has hovered near zero every night; still I rode every morning and afternoon to work and back - on my good ol' SS Jones - but by the time I rubbed the baloney in a 195 degree shower, I was ready to become one with a recliner: no trail riding at all. Disgraceful to the 8Lumens mantra yes, however par for the course considering I made up for my shame by imbibing at least $150 worth of craft beer. And, therein lies the over-arching dilemma of the winter doldrums: sign up for a 19 hour drive to Single Speed Arizona in February, in hopes this event will spike an interest in non-couch training; or be satisfied with an Arkansas mt. bikey trip the same week, hitting the Upper Buffalo IMBA Epic among other raddities...?
At this juncture it would appear that a resolution has come to the fore, enabling, at least for the next few weeks, a semblance of pork removal; only duration will tell. So, in lieu of more failure, let us rejoice in all things Penistitty, for our Dear Loser, the one and heavenly El Blanco Miguel, has officially left the realm of cuckold-ness-ery and made a wonderfully beautiful woman fear for her life. And, in near syncopation, the latest series of 8Lumens stickers arrived at the OrChasm's place of residence, replete with the indignity we who display them proudly so dutifully deserve: all hail the BreastPhallus!
One last observation before we/I/me become too intoxicated to fornicate: what the fuck happened today in Austin? Not that I give a flying anal rape about the devildamn roadies and their nubby tires of 'cross, but too muddy? It's FUCKING 'CROSS you diptards! Grass grows back, roots of old trees can be re-covered etc etc - no contingency plan USA Cycling? Eat a bowl of festered vaginal bloodfarts.
...two of the sours I dumped into my flab-o-lanch this week.