The Little Rollers

Here's my janky leg in its cast.

The blog scene lately has been a bit like a Cat 4 race, with no one wanting to lead things along, so I guess just like when I could ride I’ll hit the front and pull you poseurs along for a while. Kidding. Jesus, don’t any of you have a sense of humor. Anyhow, I have time on my hands and want to keep a reasonable record of this experience.

Ahh, the simple pleasures and tragedies of the modern wounded cyclist. On balance, the situation sucks. I say this not in a bitter or complaining way, but face it – no one would choose being injured and stuck in bed over being healthy. Even if I’ve sometimes succumbed to situations in life and let myself get a bit out of shape, I’ve generally been active in life. Having gone through a week in getting up to take a poop is noteworthy, I am going a little stir crazy.

I finally showered yesterday. Quite an ordeal, and a huge improvement in my situation. My general comfort level has markedly improved with cleanliness. The only times in life I’ve ever been that grimy were during long distance sailing races. Both situations are best handled with massive coatings of Gold Bon Powder.

Today, I shaved. I’m not much of a bear (in fact I have almost zero body hair) but six days of growth was starting to itch like a bastard. I’m a little bit concerned about the itchiness to come as my leg hair grows back underneath casts. Supposedly there is no way to have a cast without itching, and leg hair growing back has proven to be somewhat thorny in the past.

When the Oxycodone prescription showed up, it had 60 tablets in the thing. After taking one an hour ago, I have 32 left. Had I been taking maximum dosages the whole time, I would have about 14 left right now. Certainly I hope that this means I am being relatively hardy, rather than that my pain is really quite small and I am indeed a huge wuss,

Pretty restful sleep last night with just one big wakeup at 330 or so. After that I slept until 6, read about a half page of “Foreign Affairs” and then sacked back out until after 8. I have this feeling that sleep with drugs is worth less per minute than natural sleep. Probably there is no basis at all in this except for my Protestant work ethic purity thing, but I still try to let nature take care of things as much as possible. There are times when I dive headlong into the drugs bottle. After the effort of my shower yesterday, including stubbing my right heel on the bathroom door threshold and rocking myself with pain, I jumped after those pills like I was hungover and they were slices of bacon.

It seems like the world is waking up to the jungle drums of a world in permanent oil decline and meaningful scarcity. This is at the heart of a lot of what I want to do professionally. Several years ago, my then boss and I were comparing notes on what types of houses we’d build if it were up to us (I worked in residential building at the time). My ultimate house was one in which he’d lived a few years before – a small, funky, really well built old house near the water in a classic small town. At the time, the average new house size was growing by about 100 square feet a year. His little house had every one of my bases covered – small yard with lots of trees for minimal carbon footprint and maximum natural climate control. Small internal footprint for low energy demands, with additional money in top quality envelope features (windows, siding, insulation and roofing) to further reduce energy demands per square foot and increasing internal air quality. Sure, you needed to be a little efficient about space in the house, but big freaking deal. It was a neat place. At that time, you could never have sold that house en masse. Now, I’m betting you could sell those all day. Instead, we have an overstock of “Escalade” houses, with massive carbon footprints, huge yards, shitty envelopes, the need to fire up an engine any time you need so much as a gallon of milk, etc. All built further and further away from where people work. Lame.

There are some things that have jumped out as being really scary to think about going through when I do get back to riding, and a couple of things I will actually miss about being laid up 9actually just one).

Things that scare me:
1. I haven’t had nerve endings in my ass in about 2 years. Not looking forward to those rides after the first one where I have to rekill all of those pesky saddle nerves.
2. This thing is times such that it will be cold dark and crappy by the time I get back. I hate riding all bundled up clothes, in the dark, or on the trainer. Didn’t I just put all that shit behind me for another year?
3. Clipping in and walking in cycling shoes. If Jay Moglia is to be believed, I will be walking on crutches to my bike, then riding, then walking back on crutches. I suck enough at walking in cycling shoes, now I’m going to have to walk on them on crutches, no thanks. Maybe I will be the guy in MTB shoes and pedals for a while. Also, the torque of clipping in and out scares the daylights out of me. Just thinking about it gives me pain.

The good thing about being laid up:
1. Taking a pee is as easy as picking up my little urinal deal and having at it. It’s easier to pee when you are immobile. Fortunately I never had a catheter or I would be singing a different song for sure. Oxycodone turns your pee the color of a nice porter. Freaky.

My shoulder is finished with typing so I’m stopping. Have fun everyone and stay safe.