What comes around goes around.

Being sick sucks. Just when I thought I was well, I get a few laps into a cross race and realize that my lungs are full of fluid rather than air. So, I did what most phlegmy folks would do and I quit. I returned to the parking lot to find Ryder staring down the barrel of a well-soiled porta-potty. He too quit - at his attempt to use the over-flowing outhouse, stating that there was, “too much poop down there.” Instead he headed for some nearby bushes with the help of my dad, who is well-versed at using a bush as a urinal since he’s spent the better part of his life riding motorcycles in the desert. Meanwhile, I spent the rest of the afternoon coughing up junk, eating birthday cake & drinking a couple of beers with my dad, Ryder, Longo & Matt Breyer, compliments of the sisterhood of the traveling skinsuit. Or is it the sisterhood of the traveling chamois? I always forget. Anyway, the carrot cake and cold ones helped me forget that I’m not a very good CX racer even without a virus. Don’t let the recent photo of me and my cross bike in Velo News fool you. I was simply at the right place at the right time, which is pretty much what life is all about.

History has taught me that the few days after my birthday have been plagued by catastrophe: concussions, car accidents & other incidents too traumatic to mention. This year I even considered staying barricaded in my house to avoid all chance of disaster, but then I started thinking about carbon monoxide poisoning, earth quakes, and hurricanes and reasoned that really, nowhere is safe. With that in mind, I threw caution to the wind and faced my fears head on by going for a morning ride on wet roads. Amazingly I made it back home unscathed. More amazingly, so did my riding partners, Joey & Jamie. We have lived to ride another day.

As you can probably tell from the two preceding lack-luster paragraphs, few things inspire me lately other than Ryder. I’m even uninspired to ride my bike. In an effort to gain at least a little enthusiasm about something, I’ve been listening to a lot of music and reading a lot old punk rock books, but still no epiphany or trace of revolution. Coincidentally and somewhat puzzling, is that Ryder’s favorite Tosser’s song at the moment is Everything’s Bad. When we’re in the car he demands to hear Everything’s Bad. If I don’t play it, he demands to hear song number 17, which is, well, Everything’s Bad.

The cold ground was my bed last night,
With a breeze so hard it could kill
With friends like these, who needs to die?
So I stay here for the thrill
My last five pounds to get me home
Well, get me some bacon and whiskey
I'll meet her there in all my stinkin' glory
Drunk or Sober
I went down by the roses
Cause me hope, she did call
She said she had to see me soon
It was sadness on her mind
And I took with me my fiddle
And the worst, the best of my wine
And I met her there in sadness
Drunk or Sober
She sat under the tree,
And she smiled at me
And we watched the river roll
So I broke out with my fiddle
And I began to fiddle a reel
And she said no matter how funny
It hurts so bad I can't feel
I feel nothin'
I feel nothin'
Drunk or Sober
And I began to play my reel
For I did not know what to say
You worry me so, I hate this
I will not stand to see you this way
and sometimes it's just too much
How everything turns out so sad
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
You always make me happy while whenever you play
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
And i began to play me reel
For I did not know what to say

So, that’s what he makes me listen to over and over and over again. The kid’s only 3 and a half! I guess that’s what I get for making my parents listen to The Smiths for all those years. I’ve seen this happen in other people’s lives and now it’s happening in mine.