148 Days and Counting

This blog's been silent lately. Through my ruminating, I have come to realize that I'm slightly depressed because I hate this time of the year. Yes, cooler weather can be nice, but...

I live for the long days of summer. To have sunlight from 5:30 AM to 9:30 PM more than makes up for the inconvenience of the heat and humidity.

I've always felt this way. When I was a kid, I lived at our local swimming pool from morning swimming practice at 8:00 AM till when it closed each night at 9:00 PM. I wasn't just a fixture at that pool. I was the gate keeper: first in and last out each day. The sparkle of the sun off the concrete deck, chlorine bleached hair, a sun-burned nose, and the artificially-laced, coconut-smelling Hawaiian Tropic suntan oil was heaven on earth.

So when August rolled around and friends spoke of the coming school year, I'd slip away to do another cannonball off the high dive. It's not so much that I disliked school, but more that I hated the thought of summer ending.

Sigh.

This summer's been a good one. Lots of great training rides peppered with racing, and five fantastic days in the mountains with my brothers have produced many lasting memories. Even the injury to my shoulder, which I still feel today, comes secondary to the events of the past 90 days.

So now that August is nearly over, I find myself feeling gloomy about the transition to Autumn once more. Bear with me a moment as I lament and say my piece.

So long, white pants! Adios, 16 hours of daily sunlight! (And soon) Good bye Wednesday Night Worlds!

And yet, there is hope: only 148 days until the 2011 Vernal Equinox. That doesn't sound too long to wait.

Bring Out The Polka Dots

Last night was one for the memories.

Out from the lurking shadows emerged my friend, the one and only Real Wes J, joining in his Omaha Trek Store Wednesday Night Worlds (WNW) group ride.

Donning the King of the Mountains jersey, the Real Wes J made a bold statement in the ranks of the WNW peleton.

Can you spot the red and white polka-dots?

Ah, there's our boy

Here he is again drafting the wheel of Bryan Redemske

Where did he g-- oh, got him, sneaking into the lower left frame

A wise tactician, Wes waits for his moment

And there he goes. The Real WesJ drops me while fending for the KOM points on the final sprint to Ft Calhoun

Tell Them Why My Company Is So Hip, Munson

The new Corporate Cycling Challenge poster just came out at the company I work for. To the casual observer, it may look like just another promotional poster. It's not.

I know of two people -- actually one now that Sheldon Brown has passed -- that could take one look at this poster and immediately tell you the cycling innovation that is being suggested here.

Go on already Munson, tell them why we're the hipsters of cycling.

Freak Show

Last weekend I was working in the yard, clearing the remnants of two eight-foot sections of cedar fence that were crushed by a fallen limb from a recent storm. It wasn't fun. It was hot and humid and the fence had a lot of under growth and weeds. The hardest part was removing the concrete post hole. That one required renting a jack hammer.

Somewhere along the way, I brushed up against some poison oak. That plus the heat and humidity caused havoc on my immune system. An allergic reaction erupted into huge patches of hives on my legs and arms. Due to itching, sleep was miserable on Sunday night. Work was barely tolerable on Monday. But when I awoke Tuesday morning, things were starting to get downright ugly.

Did Ever see that scene in Hitch when Will Smith discovers that the food he's just eaten is known allergen?
That's how I felt when I looked into the mirror Tuesday. My face, arms and knees had puffed up considerably. Maybe not as dramatic as Mr. Smith's. But still, a freak show was in the making on 52nd Street. For example, normally I'm able to cup my wrist with my thumb and middle finger. But on Tuesday, the swelling in the wrist created a gap of nearly an inch. My appearance also spooked Katherine when she woke up. But at least my dog still wagged her tail in the morning when I fed her.

Over the next 48 hours, I popped Benedryl like Pez, called in sick, took a couple ice baths, got a doctor's appointment and filled a prescription for Prednisone. The Prednisone is the one that is finally getting things under control.

Man, if there was only a carnival in town. I could have made some good money.

Post Script:
I still managed to make a brief appearance at the Wednesday night group ride. There's this Italian restaurant called "Mangias" at 90th and Irvington Road that the ride passes every week. I've always wondered how the pizza was. Tonight, I went to find out. And when the group came rolling by at 6:23, I let others in on the pizza too while running alongside the peleton like one of those nut jobs at the grand tours. I didn't hold back. I was shouting pigeon-Italian while offering slices right out of the box to whomever wanted one. Shim, Paul and a couple others took a slice.

"Buona fortuna," I yelled as they pedaled down the road. With pizza dough and mozzarella cheese in their guts, they needed a dose of good luck when the sprint to Ft Calhoun kicked in.

Jens Voigt Spotted on Old Yeller?

It's been pointed out to me that Jens "Shut Up Legs" Voigt was photographed on a loaner bike after crashing on Stage 16 of TDF. The loaner bike bears a remarkable resemblance to my road bike known as Old Yeller.

You be the judge.

Jens Voigt on the loaner bike

WSCG himself on Old Yeller

Something doesn't quite look right. Yeah, someone photo-shopped Jens to make it appear that he's on Old Yeller.