MisfitMagic

I Didn’t get that Memo

Another in the series of Tuesdays has fallen. I’ve previously and ostensibly made INVALID individual race “results” (as they pertain to OVERALL CHAMPION OF THE WORLD - me). As such, the hows and wheres of my exact placement are unimportant. I rode up. Fast.  Really super fast.  Stop at the top and hold my chest where my… Continue reading »

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Boring

As Always, As Planned

My prior and pre-race advanced write-up was, without exception – as expected, entirely accurate. For the sake of content I will replay the highlights. I raced. I finished last. I probably deserved worse. I forced my offspring to endure it all. I paid 50 (Canadian) Dollars for the humility. Hazzah and all stop. There is one… Continue reading »

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SockvsSock

Predictions of Marginality

Ontario Cup number two is set for the near and not so distance future*. Even the so, I have some strong opinions and resignations concerning the impending results.  Official and otherwise. While I could await the inevitable, that wouldn’t be very me. Instead.  I will publish mine experiences now and merely edit in the unlikely… Continue reading »

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AllergyTwenties

Ailments Through The Ages

The case could be made that, through and with time, our bodies ability to withstand beatings and batterings subsides. With age comes the inevitability of weakness. This is something a more the younger me would say. And, as I normally was, I would (have) been correct. About the other older people. They say; What doesn’t… Continue reading »

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Team Dicky to the rescue

House Cleaning

With the recent resumption of (some measure of) riding, I am finding that my down times, seem to be all that much more then they were. Down. That is. Meaning. What was my previously over-flowing schedule has become somewhat all the more. Doubly so. The main additions being, ONE (cycling) something I really want to… Continue reading »

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I Didn’t get that Memo As Always, As Planned Predictions of Marginality Ailments Through The Ages House Cleaning

May
16

I Didn’t get that Memo

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Another in the series of Tuesdays has fallen.

I’ve previously and ostensibly made INVALID individual race “results” (as they pertain to OVERALL CHAMPION OF THE WORLD - me).
As such, the hows and wheres of my exact placement are unimportant.

  • I rode up.
    Fast.  Really super fast.  Stop at the top and hold my chest where my heart would be fast.
  • I raced.
    Fast.  Relative to me fast.  Faster than my last and previous fastest.
  • I rode down.
    Fast.  Not as fast.  Fast enough to make thumpy sounds over bumps.

Instead of dwelling on these my great accomplishments, I wanted to take a moment to publicly acknowledge the entirety of this my great upswing.

For visual purposes I drew a picture depicting the duplicity of these my better of fortunes;

So why is it that my (re-found) blistering improvement is a matter of issue?

Normally.  Typically.  For years.
We ride, we race, we return and we Black Bull.

And last night, like I normally and typically have done for those years;
I rode, I raced, I returned and I Black Bull(ed).

I bought a pitcher to share with those souls I had just recently crushed (if not beaten).
I drank it like a motherfuckingchampion.
Alone.

I well and suppose I earned this snub.

That this snub was a reflection on my well and better improvement.
But be they warned;
This snub will not go unnoticed.
This snub will not go unpunished.

Because;

A rabbit’s a rabbit.

And the things I draw come true.

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May
14

As Always, As Planned

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My prior and pre-race advanced write-up was, without exception – as expected, entirely accurate.

For the sake of content I will replay the highlights.

I raced.
I finished last.
I probably deserved worse.
I forced my offspring to endure it all.
I paid 50 (Canadian) Dollars for the humility.

Hazzah and all stop.

There is one upside to the OCUP series.

Forced awake by the crack of 0730, the Keiller Boys Three (and I as their guide) might otherwise have sleep that Sunday away.

Instead, in the hours that followed, we accomplished (this) much more;

  • Speed pie shopping
  • Constructed and consumed gourmet lunches
  • Weeded and cut the lawn
  • Competitively hunted frogs and tadpoles
  • Completed outstanding homework(s)
  • Made a delicious dinner
  • Worked out
  • Rode the trainer
  • Worked in
  • Slept hard.

Anticipating your doubt, I took the liberty of making a pointy chart that should clearly demonstrate how my competitors days faired by comparison;

It doesn’t take me to figure out that, in the grande scheme of the days (with appropriate allotments and considerations for my efforts more better’ly spent in those the pre-post hours) it stands to all good reason that we conclude;

I am the current Single Speed Ocup Points Leader.

If you would like to see the counting behind the math, this is it;

“Viva la people with other things to do so they can’t really race so good!”

 

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May
12

Predictions of Marginality

by

Ontario Cup number two is set for the near and not so distance future*.

Even the so, I have some strong opinions and resignations concerning the impending results.  Official and otherwise.
While I could await the inevitable, that wouldn’t be very me.
Instead.  I will publish mine experiences now and merely edit in the unlikely event that the proverbial shit-apple falls further than expected from the shit-tree.

* This is true at the time of publication at the least. 

Fast forward that then day.

I’ve just completed a 22.5km single track sprint.
Three laps at a venue I had never previously ridden (Woodnewton).
And.
Given Woodnewton’s tragic location in and amidst the incorporated trailer-park known as Uxbridge, I doubt I’ll return anytime soon*.

* Unless I need to purchase a pop-tent, a red pontiac grand-prix, a pit-pull or track pants made for two.

As with most, I’m generally happy the race is over.
Both the poorer and the motivated for the humiliation.

More specifically, that is graphically speaking, my morning went a little something like this;

This is a race pace...

Put that in your Cycling Dirt and smoke it

I will finish.
I will not make excuses.

Unless “fuck me I (still) suck” is to be considered an excuse.

That said.
My presence isn’t entirely for mine own benefit.

It’s important for the Keiller Boys three to learn that their maker isn’t entirely and exclusively excellent at everything.
They will see that in addition to my chiseled good-looks and omnipotent vision, I am humble, considerate and loved by hundreds.

Of course we can’t forget the fans.  Spectators of cross country mountain sports have long grown weary of their hairless flesh, tight pants and white teeth.
A new breed of super-fan is on the rise.
These little Psyclomaniacs are always eager to witness (first face) their hero in action.  To see just and how I (again) challenge the conventions of traditional cycling accoutrement.

At Ontario Cup  number 1 I elected for the complex juxtacombination of knee-high socks, full bibs under baggy shorts, arm warmers, unzipped Psycle jersey and a roadie helmet.

While I have located additional options for this coming weekend, the socks, they stay.

I’m not alone in my feeling of super sexy.

While it cannot be stated often enough.
I looked good in leggings.

So.

I have shopped a little something that gRant will need to get right on.

Swiftwick Sockpsycles

Blistering.
A design of this originality and quantities of our magnitude will not only create a cycling sensation but (if they play their cards right) could very well bring Swiftwick into the blinding lights of our very own brand of infamy.

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May
10

Ailments Through The Ages

by

The case could be made that, through and with time, our bodies ability to withstand beatings and batterings subsides.

With age comes the inevitability of weakness.

This is something a more the younger me would say.
And, as I normally was, I would (have) been correct.

About the other older people.

They say;

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

They say this amidst your suffering, possibly in the spirit of true cheerleadership but most likely either because they have nothing left to offer or they really wish you’d stop your pointless fucking crying.

What they don’t say;

Then it (whatever it is that tried and failed to kill you previously) claws its way the fuck back, this time bigger and stronger with the (renewed) express purpose of trying to kill you dead all over again.

A veritable arms and legs race of escalating adversity versus adaptive determination that will inevitably produce the hows, whys and whens of your eventual (and ultimate) demise.

Pessimistic?

Not really.  Unless of course you’re resigned to death by unemployment or divorce or a bad cup of coffee.

I called it Preparedistic.
The understanding of and preparation for (against) the onset of inevitably shitty things.

One particular case in point:  Allergies.

Always been my case.

I took a moment to document the process as it was and is.
You should be please appreciating that I utilized a Hiptasmic-like filter on my Sharpie.

Note: This ACTUALLY reads PeteyWeattie and NOT PeteyMeattie…it wasn’t like that.

This leads to the OCUP Series.
Number 2.

It hurts to be awake.
It hurts to breathe.
Exertion of this sort, in this condition, leads to an expulsion of bodily fluids and a swelling of extremities that cannot be maintained by just any mere mortal.

Well played Mr Death.

Go on then.
Hide behind the greenish facade of flora and fauna, but be thee warned, I’m not ready to be defeated by the petiole of your toxic salad.

No.

See you Sunday.
Through eyes swollen shut.

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May
08

House Cleaning

by

With the recent resumption of (some measure of) riding, I am finding that my down times, seem to be all that much more then they were.
Down.
That is.

Meaning.
What was my previously over-flowing schedule has become somewhat all the more.
Doubly so.
The main additions being, ONE (cycling) something I really want to do and TWO (exhaustion) this (of course) is something I cannot avoid so long as I am doing ONE.

Instead of simply ceasing (as I have done so numerously in the past), I have elected to make modifications that might allow for more optimal use of any remaining time whatsoever.

  • I have acquired a pointy stick.  With it, I poke things.  Some in a good way, some in a way they may wish I would not.
  • Kitchen cupboards are never closed.  That is unless their openness in some manner effects the speed at which I can access the other (more open) cupboards.
  • Many of my meals are now blended.  Partly to ensure ample nutritional value, partly to reduce the number of dishes that require washing and partly to save on digestion.
  • I no longer LISTEN to voicemails, I wait for them to be translated into text and delivered to my lazy eyes.  This will explain why some of you have received drawings of tractor beams or alien celery after requesting order tracking numbers.
  • When man-scaping, I consider all surfaces of my skull to be one-in-the-same.  face, head and (if I’m not careful) other facial-features are trimmed using the same blade, same setting.
  • Perhaps my mostest grandest venture to date involves the bunker on Wright Cr.  Improvements are being made to this our home.  Making or re-modifying the rooms into such as state as they might (actually) fulfill the purposes for which they were intended.

The garden;

That was just to clear a path to the shed

The walls;

Jesus says you should buy from Misfit Psycles

The bedroom;

Drop down porn viewer has been eliminated.

These things have already fallen to the might of my effort and hammerer.

There is the matter of my master closet.
Shown briefly in the image above, the doors were clad with mac-tac and paint.  The innards, a heavenly mixture of gloss green paint, wallpaper, oak chair-rail and shelving held together by the absurdity of it all.

Regrettably, I did not photograph any of it prior to destruction.
For a long time I had a giant hole where the ugly had been.

Enter.  The birthday gift.
Ikea gift cards.

I used to buy from Ikea simply to use the boxes in shipping.
Now nary as affluent, I am forced to buy the boxes for the furniture.

This is what you need to build our shelving.

Same tools different poster

There are not many tools required to complete an installation of (even) this magnitude.

That said.
Some the how, I may have err’ed in the order in which these tools were utilized…
The result was somewhat confuzzeled.
And I got very hungry.

Team Dicky to the rescue

No matter what I did.
No matter how hard I hit them.
I could not get the walls levelled with the poles.

So I slept it off (for a recovery win).

Much shelving success.

In the morning.  It all looked much better.

So.
From an efficiency standpoint, that is after 344 days, I no longer have to walk to the basement to put on new pyjamas for the day.

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