You Better, You Better You Bet

Even in my weakened state I can still make Big Worm my little bitch. I have had just about enough of the "piss" headers big man. I am home for the week so lets play games.


W.B.Z.N.

Sweet Tuesday Morning

Heading down to see some Gators about a hole in my heart on Tuesday. If all goes well, I'll be home Wednesday, and hopefully (dare I think this far ahead?) back on a bike by mid/late November.

My wife's and my relationship is about to go to a new level of intimacy, as she is shooting drugs into my body. Boy the fun of having a heart issue and a stroke, just keeps getting better.

I have to say: I am thankful I have a job with really good benefits. I am thankful for the truly compassionate and quality heath care I have received. But jeez, I am worn down to the nub with all the blood giving, opinion getting, prescription filling, form writing, warning label reading, and "in the unlikely eventing" I have been doing. Like a new Mom in the ninth month, my fears have been replaced by an over whelming need to: "get it over with". Just to stay honest, I have managed to stay (a little) scared shitless.

So it is with true BC resolve that I roll balls out, no brakes, f#*^ it if I take a digger, towards this obstacle in my trail. Even if I leave some big ring teeth on it, I'm still gonna be stoked, if I am rolling on the other side.

See y'all at the start/finish. Save me a seat, a sausage dog, and a Fat Tire Ale.


W.B.Z.N.

My Brain is like a Sieve

I remember when I first started riding with Big Worm, I used to complain so bad on the climbs, he would tell me jokes to distract me. Then one day he said:

"Just ride to the next tree"

"Then what?" I said.

"Ride to the next one after that." The big man said.

That's how this new thing with my noodle is going. One tree at a time. I am trying not to look up the hill but sometimes, my hyper Irish brain is not so smart. It likes to go a few more miles up the trail than it should. Lucky for me I have some really good friends, a really strong wife, and a family that drives me nuts, but is on twenty four hour call. All these things keep the chin up (if one has a chin).

Thanks to all for the help. It may be time to augment the moniker...

W.B.Z.N.A.N.
(lunch with the author for first correct guess)

The Shape Of A Heart

I am nursing some pretty painful injuries. My hip still hurts from a crash in June at Santos. I bent my ring finger back on my left hand and had to bribe a guy in Lowe's to cut off my wedding band, with bolt cutters. My ring is at the jewellers being Steve Austined and my finger feels like a Bradfordville link sausage, left on the grill too long, by a cheerleaders fund raising Mom. My ring finger on my right hand, was jammed in a crash in February. It refuses to return to normal and remains stiff after many months. It was the crash, that rang in the great string of crashes, I suffered this year. Today I put my pointer finger in between my big ring and my chain, while lubing up before a ride. I went from three to twelve o clock, before I realized I was about to lop off the end of a digit, with french revolutionist professionalism.

Oh yeah! I had a stroke, and I am the proud owner of a heart defect, which by the way will be added to my career as a Artist Manager, my life as a musician, and my neck issues, as things that my friends and blog devotees will not tolerate in conversations or in this generic google layout. *Yes, I was trying to break my own record for longest run on sentence.*

I have a headache and can't take the meds that will fix it. I am waiting to get scheduled for heart surgery. I am taking rat poison to stop clotting and have been ordered to cut back on my one and only vice: Tea consumption.

I know what you are thinking: He complains, therefore he is back to normal. You would be wrong on level that would make the fabricators of the bible recoil in abject horror. I am a happy dude. I got a pass from my heart Doc, to ride today. My friend Big Jim set up an impromptu ride with some folks that I was pretty sure didn't dig me. They seemed happy to see me back in a Lycra shell. They laughed. They were patient with my long answers to easy questions. They were relaxed and rode behind me. They turned around and headed back with me, when they really wanted to continue on at a pace they were used to. Not one warm gesture or expression was lost on me. I noticed every subtle act of kindness and tried with all my being to deserve it.

I have been showered with support and good wishes. I have had people from the local cycling community, familiar faces that I thought had no idea who I was, inquire for news from my beloved crew. I have had people from my past seek me out, that I have not spoken to in thirty years after hearing about my "event". My close friends and crew all went above and beyond, as I rambled through my emotional storm. Believe me when I say, I view myself as a general nuisance that no one would shed a tear over. So these kind thoughts, prayer circle's, Madonna candles, text messages, signed cards, and emails, not only caught me by surprise but literally would not let me be anything but positive and hopeful. It was simply too much good mojo to fight. I can't take any credit for getting better and/or lucky with the recent hurdle. I was willed over by friends, family, and most of all my wife.

My hands will heal. My hip will loosen up. My heart will be patched by a surgical magician. All these things will pass, but I promise you I will never forget what has happened. Not the stroke, but all the cool people that reached out to me, and held my sorry ass up when I wavered.

Thank you, I am undeserving, but grateful.

Now lets talk about something amazing and basic: I rode my bike at Fern, Tom Brown, and Cadillac today. It was grand. The pace was slow and the woods were filled with conversation about light wheels, 29'ers and future endurance events. I jammed the same finger that I got stuck in the chain, into a tree. It is a throbbing balloon animal of pain.....I couldn't be happier.

W.B.Z.N.