New bike, new ear, new sport.

Sam’s mother helps him wash his hair. He has to be careful of the healing skin, the sutured wound. His ear is alternately numb and sore and he claims that the doctor did not reattach it properly to his big, round head:

“It’s not on there right. I look different.”

He’s been gone forever.

I sleep with the cats. Biddy with his proud little chin on my shoulder, Uci with his great, substantial body at my feet. We’re the Trio of Loneliness. We fall asleep together. We wake up together.

Me and the cats.

It’s raining and I’m wearing ballet flats. For someone who is persistently cold, I certainly don’t do very good wardrobe planning. My feet are ice cubes attached to my body at the ankles. Hot coffee provides intermittent relief.

It’s raining and I’m riding my little Peugeot to and from work. We are friends again now that he has a front brake. We call this the Plan B brake because the Peugeot is fitted with a coaster brake and about 2 months ago I found out that coaster brakes actually cease to function when your chain comes off. I know – incredible.

I found this out while riding over the Hawthorne Bridge. A very adept, very handsome and very fancy cyclist on a beautiful road bike rode up behind me and took hold of the back of my saddle to slow me down. It was my damsel-in-distress-knight-in-shining-armor moment. I didn’t like it very much but I will say that I was grateful for the rescue.

So it’s me and the Peugeot again in the mornings. I have decided that the Peugeot is definitely male. A very angry little Frenchman to be exact. This may have something to do with the fact that we have had some trouble getting along in the past. I’m hoping that the worst is behind us.

The Pino, on the other hand, is one jealous Italian bitch. She sneers at the Peugeot and I was we leave in the morning.

“But baby!” I say, “You don’t LIKE the rain, remember? You don’t want to have to wear fenders, do you?”

Apparently she is not speaking to me because she has yet to respond.

No matter. They are both going to be spitting fire in about 10 days. There’s a new bike on the way and I have a feeling it’s gonna be getting a lot of face time. Cyclo-cross season came and grabbed Sammy by the heart and gut. I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground here and cyclo-cross is on every tongue.

What is cyclo-cross? Find out here.

Basically it’s like a cross-country race on wheels. Holy good god, yes, that sounds fantastic. Thing is, neither the Peugeot nor the Pino go off-road very well. Hence the need for a new pony. :) I got a great deal on this ’05 LeMond Poprad and I frankly prefer this color-scheme to that of the ’06.

Mud, grass, hell: prepare to be conquered.

I’m nervous because cross is very technical and requires constant mount and dismount. When hills are too steep or muddy or both, you jump off your bike, throw it on your shoulder, and run. Now that is my kind of sport. They also put obstacles and barriers throughout the course that force you to dismount the bike.

Basically? It’s pretty much fucking insane. Which is, of course, why I’m interested. There will certainly be ‘cross updates in the future.

For now I am headed to my first yoga class ever. (What!? Yoga?!) Yeah, that’s what I said. I’ve known for a long time that my greatest athletic shortcoming is my lack of flexibility. I also know that improving flexibility will make me less injury prone and keep me on the softball field and the running path for a lot longer. I’m going to suck it up and go see what this hippy shit is all about. :) From what I’ve been told I’m about to have my ass kicked.

If I can un-pretzel myself when I am done there will be a full report.

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