Spiderman: Across the Dickverse

Pretty sure I got bit by a spider some time last week.  "Pretty sure" by process of elimination of things it probably wasn't, since I never actually saw said spider.  I can't blame my entire week on it, but my medical issue paranoia combined with still dealing with the heat on a daily basis, an upcoming physical (which brings upon an anxiety of equal proportion to when I needed to get my '87 Suzuki Samurai's emission inspection) and a ten day trip to Colorado I'm not prepared for, and a weekend without The Pie or a dog...

Mentally and physically fried, I am.  

With the weekend open, I was going to enter the first race of the Summer Short Track Shootout.  Nick signed up on Tuesday.  I know this because he told me so.

It was $32 with all associated fees on Tuesday.

It was up to $38 on Wednesday. Dammit.

I figured I'd wait until Saturday, and just pull out two Jacksons for $40 day of... in case I decided to bail for any reason... to include being asked to do something (anything?) better.  Normally, I woulda signed up full-stoke for the entire series, making it closer to $25 a race and something to "commit" to, thus evoking "motivation."  Unfortunately (fortunately?), Bill Nye and I will be on our Mild Mild West Tour '23 on the last two weekends of the series, so whatever.

The Pie had told me to make the most of my free time, so Friday after work, I rode over to Kürdt's house and grabbed a whole mess of limited edish (because Fast Mustache is ded) jerseys and Enduro™ tech T shirts to give out at the Horny Cat 69.

They key to event promotion?  Presentation, presentation, presentation.  This is not a "real event," so I don't need "keys."

Honestly, I have no idea how I'm going to distribute all the jerseys and gloves, but a lot of people will be getting their $10 worth.

After filling my messenger bag to the point of ripping my shoulder off, it was back across town to enjoy some suds at The Spoke Easy before heading home to get all my things ready for Shart Tarck the next morning.

I put a fair amount of effort into getting my shit together, and the next day, Nick and I rolled from my house over to Renni, the OG Shart Tarck course of the Carolinas.  I was looking for waivers and pens and whatnot at the registration table, and I was directed to a QR code... because everything is online now.  I knew what was about to happen, but started to jump through the digital hoops anyways...

And now registration is up to $45.

Money isn't real, but still...

I did this to myself.

I decided to jump in for a warmup lap to see how I really felt about racing.  I'd been sleeping like shit recently, and the brief ride over here was slightly taxing.  Almost as soon as I jumped into the woods, it dawned on me that although I can normally race Shart Track in sunglasses, Summer Shart Tarck ain't Winter Shart Tarck. 

Photo cred: Lee Flythe

It's dark AF in the woods (Lee used TECHONLOGY to take the photo), and I could barely see the lumps and bumps in the trail.  As I rolled through the spectator pit, I decided that two mistakes is enough mistakes.  I pulled off the course, grabbed a beer, and joined in on the Type One Fun.

Watching racing ain't the same as racing, but it was better than neither.  Athletes need athletic supporters.

The rest of my day was working on/cleaning my mom's wheelchair, watching World Champ DH racing at Dr Mike's house... followed by yet another shitty night of sleep.

Charlotte smelled like a port-a-pottie on the last afternoon of Bonnaroo when I walked outside Sunday morning. I was stoked to be heading to Mountain Creek with Turd and Rocky, but not stoked on the heat and humidity. 

And I'd self-sabotaged once again.

A couple weeks ago, I discovered that I'd beyond worn out the chain on my Vassago.  Of course in doing so, I destroyed a very old chain ring.  Replace ring, replace chain, tension... with a little extra something because first rides on new chains = "stretch."  Too lazy to swap from a mountain frandly 20 tooth cog, I headed to Mountain Creek (very 32X18 frandly) on a cog that wasn't happy with a new (also very tight) chain in miserably hot and humid conditions with a spunky Rocky taking the lead and shit sleep and that thought in the back of my head that a spider gave me the superpowers of sadness ended up making for a difficult day.

I always enjoy riding my bike, but there are days when the enjoyment is lessened by outside factors, usually internal tho.

Took a full-on under-the-covers nap BEFORE showering when I got home.  Still felt wiped the rest of the day.

I was looking forward to a hard reset on Monday, but I started it by breaking a decades old Pyrex measuring cup on the stone kitchen floor.  When I was in the final minutes of needing to get ready for work, I was instead on my hands and knees with a 700 lumen light looking for particles of glass dust that I certainly don't want embedded in one or more of our eight feets.

And then there was the rest of the day that I spent enjoying my occupation that felt like the Always Sunny "Charlie Work" episode...


So there's that. I knew I shoulda stayed in bed.  I'm just fortunate that no one asked me if I was having a case of the Mondays, because I don't feel like another meeting with HR.