So, pretty much every Sunday is reserved for mountain biking and last Sunday was no exception. The group I ride with are all massively experienced and my job is usually to keep up, not get lost and to try not to puke. Last Sunday we went on a ride that almost made my legs fall right off. If I'd known before we left that it was going to be an epic (read 2 1/2 hour) ride, I'd probably have opted for sitting on my ass and flipping throw the channels on our glorious new flat-tube 27" television.

To make myself go, I told myself that I could bail out after an hour and prayed that we were riding the relatively easy Powhite trails and not the Buttermilk/Forest Hill extravaganza of steep, rooty, rock-filled hills. Guess where we went? *sob* At this point you might be thinking to yourself "But Adrien, didn't you kick all kinds of 5th place ass last summer at Buttermilk/Forest Hill?" and you would be correct. But, see, that was last summer when I was on my bike all the damn time, not one time a week, when I can be bothered to peel myself off the couch.

Anyway, the ride went well for a while - I was doing pretty good and feeling fine, despite the Burning Nausea Experience associated with hill-climbing like a goddamn goat. Seriously, sometimes I'll be halfway up a hill so steep it makes me wonder why I haven't actually tipped over backwards. Usually these "hey, I'm defying gravity!" thoughts come right before your bike actually does tip over backwards, so it's best not to think it. Similar to the roadrunner/coyote phenomenon of not actually falling until you look down and realize you've walked off a cliff, but I digress.

The ride progresses and all is well, though I'm feeling a bit tired. A suggestion is made to ride the trail by the floodwall and down to the slave trails by the river. It's FLAT down there so I was for it, but there were some grumbles from a few of the more hard-core riders. These are the same people who don't seem to notice the absolutely beautiful view:

(image removed for editing because it was too damn big.)

About halfway down that section of trails I finally hit the wall, so to speak, and was suddenly exhausted. Very close to bonking. We went back the easy way and it was all I could do to make my legs turn the pedals. We did make it home but not without me imploring Kenny to carry me and thus prove his love. I also told him I was pretty certain I might die. He was so mean he made me ride my bike all the way home and then made me lunch. The nerve.

Look! I'm a badass:

***************

So damn if it isn't almost Christmas, or as I like to call it, The Holiday Formerly Known As Winter Solstice Before Those Sneaky Christians Done Stole It. I kid! But really, it's kind of true. And here's a secret: I like Christmas. I do! I know it's cool to be all blase and hatey about the holiday season, but truly, I do enjoy it, though I am not actually a Christian anymore.

I love the traditions, the holiday food (ahh, SMOKED TUNA DIP, I HEAR YOU CALLING ME, TEMPTRESS), the evil holiday beverages from Starbucks, hearing Feliz Navidad on the radio, and I really like the whole tree (PAGAN) thing and decorations! I love the decorations. I especially love that one of the snooty old-money mansions (in the wealthy neighborhood surrounding the University where I work) has gone completely cracker-dog with the yard decor and has light-up Santa and reindeer and a nativity and giant candy canes and I'm sure is totally pissing off Muffy and Armistead who live next door. That totally rules.

Anyway, despite my heart-seizing fears about money for presents and the lack of time in which to get everything done, I'm looking forward to the season - especially the part between the 24th and the 1st when I'm OFF WORK. Yay! I'll be painting my kitchen that week which isn't a party, exactly, but at least I don't have to wear a bra or shoes. You are so jealous, I can tell.

Last night my dad and I went to see the Klezmer Conservatory Band (note: Klezmer is basically Yiddish bluegrass) and it was AWESOME. Old people got up and danced in the aisles. Who knew I loved Jewish wedding music? But, like ska, it's happy music, full of horns. The cornet player in the band has played with a lot of ska bands, so that made it even more fun. I like starting Hanukkah off right.

That's all I've got for now, monkeys. I'd like to thank you guys for the input re. My Kitchen. I've decided to go with the salmon/cream combo and paint the trim and cabinets white. I'll be sure to document the transformation with pictures. It should be...something.

PS. I'm cracking up that this time last year I was convinced my car was dying. And yet? She lives. Am I ever not convinced my car is dying?

5 chatty monkeys