Schwinn
August 26th, 2005, 10:09 AM
No, no, a new one!
I had my bike race last weeked. My first lap was pretty bad. My routine is usually a squirt from the asthma puffer, and then another one a km in. So, I did a puff, got a km in, climbed the first big hill, and...oh oh. Nothing. Nada. El Puffo Empty-o. Not good. I probably should have skipped my lap at the first check point, but I didn't want to quit my lap.
When I got back, after 20 mins of wheezing, I called Cheryl and had her bring out a new puffer. Next lap--3 am. Strapped on the lights, and off I went. 2 puffs, great. Climbed the first hill, two more shots, awesome. I was flying! Climbing hills like I was riding escalators (okay, really slow escalators that were probably a few pounds than they should be, but still...) I did have to go a little slower than normal down hills because my lights didn't show everything, but that was okay, downhill is where I excel. Next year, I use my lights on my handlebars, and rent a helmet light. 5 k in, feeling great. Fallen try. "Hellloooo, Tree!" Up and over, no problem! Pitch black behind the tree, but I know where the trail is. D'oh! Apparently, I didn't know there was two big tree roots conspiring to eat my front wheel! My trusty Schwinn comes to a dead stop, I don't. I hear the "snap, snap!" of my shoes unclicking to confirm what I know, I'm going airborne, sans bikey. Tuck the arm so I don't break a collarbone, aaand roll! SPLUT! Or, just smack into the ground like a sack of...you know. Then I hear someone on the side trail ask if I'm okay, and then says, "Don't worry. Looks like you weren't the first one!" Oh, I feel so much better now! :thumbs up For the next fiftenn kms, I'm forced to walk up every stupid, freakin' hill, because my arm feels like I'm being stabbed every time I pull back on the bars. In the middle of night, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, in pitch black. (This did seem like a good idea four months ago when I signed up)
So, I get back to the start finish, and one of my team mates has come looking for me, wonders if I died. Back at camp, I'm telling the story and laughing at my dumb self, and my head starts to ache as my neck gets stiff. Since I have a vertebrae that is moved a quarter of an inch, that pain goes without saying. Next day, I'm sore, and I hate work, so I call in sick. Tuesday, I get home, and I'm like a bear who just woke up from his nap. I had a bad day (yelled at a customer, which I don't do, and then I realize, oops, I'm wrong). It doesn't get much better by bed-time. Next day at work, my head is aching, and I'm forgetting my...uh...erm...words. And my head is all floaty, kind of like medicine head. Talking with Cheryl, she says I was crankier than usual, which apparently is a symptom of a concussion, as well as forgetfulness. Then I find out, the more concussions you've had, the easier it is to get them. I've had so many I'm afraid of nodding yes or no in case I give myself another one!
Today, I feel a lot better. I don't know if I actually have one or not, or if it's just this place which I hate giving it to me. I don't see a point in going to the doctor. "Yes, you have a headache, take an aspirin". Or, I guess I could get an MRI, but by the time I get in, it'll probably be fine, or if I did get in right away, "Yes, you have a concusion, take an aspirin". Not really worth losing a day's wages. The good news is, I haven't been sleeping well, especially since Cheryl, Gracie and Daisy all went to visit the in-laws in Thunder Bay, so that should make for an easier drive to my parents this weekend!
Anyway, I guess I got a little wordy. Sorry. That was my weekend. Cheryl said I was about due for a big crash, I didn't have one last year, and it's been a while since I added to my Wall of Broken Helmets. Given my track record, maybe I should change my name to La-Z-Boy and just stay in front of the TV!
I had my bike race last weeked. My first lap was pretty bad. My routine is usually a squirt from the asthma puffer, and then another one a km in. So, I did a puff, got a km in, climbed the first big hill, and...oh oh. Nothing. Nada. El Puffo Empty-o. Not good. I probably should have skipped my lap at the first check point, but I didn't want to quit my lap.
When I got back, after 20 mins of wheezing, I called Cheryl and had her bring out a new puffer. Next lap--3 am. Strapped on the lights, and off I went. 2 puffs, great. Climbed the first hill, two more shots, awesome. I was flying! Climbing hills like I was riding escalators (okay, really slow escalators that were probably a few pounds than they should be, but still...) I did have to go a little slower than normal down hills because my lights didn't show everything, but that was okay, downhill is where I excel. Next year, I use my lights on my handlebars, and rent a helmet light. 5 k in, feeling great. Fallen try. "Hellloooo, Tree!" Up and over, no problem! Pitch black behind the tree, but I know where the trail is. D'oh! Apparently, I didn't know there was two big tree roots conspiring to eat my front wheel! My trusty Schwinn comes to a dead stop, I don't. I hear the "snap, snap!" of my shoes unclicking to confirm what I know, I'm going airborne, sans bikey. Tuck the arm so I don't break a collarbone, aaand roll! SPLUT! Or, just smack into the ground like a sack of...you know. Then I hear someone on the side trail ask if I'm okay, and then says, "Don't worry. Looks like you weren't the first one!" Oh, I feel so much better now! :thumbs up For the next fiftenn kms, I'm forced to walk up every stupid, freakin' hill, because my arm feels like I'm being stabbed every time I pull back on the bars. In the middle of night, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, in pitch black. (This did seem like a good idea four months ago when I signed up)
So, I get back to the start finish, and one of my team mates has come looking for me, wonders if I died. Back at camp, I'm telling the story and laughing at my dumb self, and my head starts to ache as my neck gets stiff. Since I have a vertebrae that is moved a quarter of an inch, that pain goes without saying. Next day, I'm sore, and I hate work, so I call in sick. Tuesday, I get home, and I'm like a bear who just woke up from his nap. I had a bad day (yelled at a customer, which I don't do, and then I realize, oops, I'm wrong). It doesn't get much better by bed-time. Next day at work, my head is aching, and I'm forgetting my...uh...erm...words. And my head is all floaty, kind of like medicine head. Talking with Cheryl, she says I was crankier than usual, which apparently is a symptom of a concussion, as well as forgetfulness. Then I find out, the more concussions you've had, the easier it is to get them. I've had so many I'm afraid of nodding yes or no in case I give myself another one!
Today, I feel a lot better. I don't know if I actually have one or not, or if it's just this place which I hate giving it to me. I don't see a point in going to the doctor. "Yes, you have a headache, take an aspirin". Or, I guess I could get an MRI, but by the time I get in, it'll probably be fine, or if I did get in right away, "Yes, you have a concusion, take an aspirin". Not really worth losing a day's wages. The good news is, I haven't been sleeping well, especially since Cheryl, Gracie and Daisy all went to visit the in-laws in Thunder Bay, so that should make for an easier drive to my parents this weekend!
Anyway, I guess I got a little wordy. Sorry. That was my weekend. Cheryl said I was about due for a big crash, I didn't have one last year, and it's been a while since I added to my Wall of Broken Helmets. Given my track record, maybe I should change my name to La-Z-Boy and just stay in front of the TV!