Month of Madness Blog Two

You know what happens when you're heaps busy riding your bike and riding girls and swimming in the ocean and touching your wee wee? You don't write blogs. That's what happens.


The Month of Madness was going swimmingly. Week 1 was 22 hours long, week 2 was 24 hours long. It was pretty epic. Then week 3 was only 16 hours for some reason. It doesn't stop there, however, week 4 was only 10 hours! Week 5 is projected to be over 9000 hours long. Projected.

After the long weeks, I really feel as though I don't need anymore long rides. I did one Maroota ride and tacked on another two hours to make it 175km and even at the end I felt strong. I wasn't hunger flatting nor were my legs giving out. I just had power all the way to the last pedal stroke.

The only lacking part is intensity. Long slow rides or short slow rides seem to be the norm around here. There's only a week left until normal weekday rides resume. INTENSITY! While I do love riding my bike, I like to mix it up between long rides and fast rides.

By riding your bike, you too can gain access to the
Goat Tower

Basically, it all fell apart one Sunday. We had had the most beautiful weather and then it started raining, and it wasn't even normal rainy rain, it was torrential death rain. I didn't have a vest, or shoe covers, so like fuck I was going to ride to the shop for a 7am roll out. Turns out there was a bunch ride because it wasn't raining so hard in Turraland. I ended up doing a sneaky 30 minutes all down hill. Was alright.

It's all downhill from here, bro.

Then on Monday we rode somewhere probably PITS because that's just, like, where we're heading, and on the way home I was hit by a tradie in a ute!

The follwing day I popped some Nurofen and rode to Wisemans Ferry. There was a dedicated bunch of five or so willing to go all the way, but because Jon Leighton is a fucking selfish cunt, he rode off at the top of Galston and left three of us behind.

Anyway, the following day my right knee had some pain and I didn't feel it was worth it to ride through the pain. I still rode every day, just less than half an hour each day trying to help my body recover.

After three days I was fatigue free! Three massive weeks had made me slow and tired, but now I was punching unicorns in the face with my fists.

I was aiming to ride with the bunch again on Friday, but due to all the sleeping in I didn't wake up in time! Naughty! The same thing happened on Saturday and Sunday! I totally missed the massive Sunday bunch ride! Exclamation mark!

!

I made it on time to the Monday ride. It was advertised as PITS but was then made into four laps of Beaumont road and Bobbin Head. SO LAME.

The only thing lamer than how lame Monday's ride was, was when my CUSTOM OAKLEY'S FLEW OFF MY HELMET AT 70km/h AND BOUNCED UNDER THE FRONT WHEEL OF A CAR! What the flaming mother fuck?

It's okay though. I've got another pair on the way!

I really like the boarder I put around them too.

Not as outlandish as the last pair, but I feel that it's the right pair for me at this time in my life.

So I fell in love with snorkelling and I've done it like, a million times and I'm a heaps better swimmer now. The first time I went out, and you can ask the rescue chopper pilots that pulled me to safety to verify this, but I couldn't tread water and almost drowned. But now I'm so pro it's not even fair.

Except on Sunday when I was the last, or furtherest out, snorkeller. Visibility was only about 2 metres and the current was fairly strong. It was about 7pm, FEEDING TIME! So I was trying to swim back to shore so I didn't get eaten by a shark. I kept peaking behind me just the check, like it would help.

Half way in I heard a bunch of girls screaming above me on the rocks. While I had cleared my bowels before swimming, I assure you that if I had something to clear, it would have passed. I looked up at them to see what they were screaming about, and turns out that they were having their photo taken from the beach. And it turns out that that is scream worthy...

Fucking teenagers.

I'm snorkelling here, god dammit

Lastly but not leastly, I drove Helen (she's my girlfriend, yo) to Bathurst for a job interview on Friday. We did a lap of Mount Panorama and shaved 12 minutes off the lap record. Turns out Bathurst is a pretty nice place. Although I didn't mix it with the locals, I did mix it with a plate of wedges at the RSL that was several factors of 10 too big.