Category: cycling

What What.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

Plum Torte season is here!

Last year was a low-yield year for the plum trees in the backyard. This year we’re plumdog millionaires. I baked this torte in honour of Yann’s 38th Yanniversary on the 26th. He’s more of a pie guy than a cake enthusiast, but as I don’t own a pie dish, I hope this was a good compromise.

While delivering the torte, I rescued this disgraced royal couple from a box labelled “FREE” on the side of the street.

There is a strong possibility this wasn’t purchased ironically, as there are still folks alive in this city who get goofy over the British royal family. At least it has entered my home with the utmost irony. Now I need to find an actual use for it. To store condoms? Then, when I get around to using a condom, I’ll whisper into the guy’s ear, “Reitmans.“

(I have a feeling this joke will go over most people’s heads, but I am keeping it in anyway.)

(The roomie’s suggestion was ribbon candy, which I think is somehow funnier.)

If the above wasn’t TMI enough for you, you’re in for a treat!

Continue reading “What What.” →

Getting pegged.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

In addition to skinning my knee, I set a new personal record on Sunday. Yesterday, I managed just 3,756 steps, which is kind of a lot considering how much my knee swelled up on Sunday night. I’d underestimated how much damage my knee took when I went down and have since been splitting my time between icing my knee and hobbling around. Today was a 6,400-limp kinda day that involved getting buns from the supermarket.

Leave it up to me to blog about buns:

Great for sandwiches and burgers? As opposed to what? Knee protection?

Exponentially–and optimistically–speaking, should I continue to improve at this rate, I’ll be ready for another half-marathon by Wednesday.

Realistically, I’ll take Zoée’s suggestion to plunge into the trove of my arts-and-crafts supplies and inch my way towards the completion of my Slovenia trip recap. I last left off at the end of Day 4: the group’s reunion with Fatema in Bovec.

Continue reading “Getting pegged.” →

It’s time to think about the Roman Empire.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

Deaf people can do anything except hear.

…or stay upright while running. I stepped on a ghost skateboard at the 18.5km mark and ate shit in front of someone’s driveway. By ghost skateboard, I mean I don’t know what exactly took me down. General incompetence? I’m enjoying the attention I’m getting on Strava right now, though.

However, I did not appreciate the woman in a red blazer and Sally Jessy glasses who emerged from a driveway to wave me down, probably to talk to me about Jesus. I was just five minutes away from home, and I am certain she did not even notice that I was bleeding. Nah, I am not stopping for Jesus: I need an ice pack. Driveways were unkind to me today.

Today’s post isn’t about running or going down; instead, I’m taking a trip back in time to discuss going up, and on a bicycle.

Continue reading “It’s time to think about the Roman Empire.” →

Going pear-shaped.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

There hasn’t been much of a lull in my summer, leaving me with little time to finish the Slovenian Chronicles. When I’m not working, riding, or running, I’m getting sidetracked by inconsequential mysteries, such as a pile of pears.

Exhibit A:

Without a single pear tree nearby and the nearest source of pears being the supermarket at the other end of the parking lot, I had to wonder how this pile of pears came to be. It’s been consuming me. Do we have a pear stealing whore in our midst? What’s the story here?

And…

Exhibit B:

I’ve also been reading an actual story. Ed, who has been anxiously awaiting my recaps of our time in Slovenia, clearly did not think through the consequences of suggesting such a riveting read.

Wavewalker is a true tale about a couple who refused to let parenthood hold them back from achieving their bizarre dream of following Captain Cook’s third voyage around the world. Oddly specific. Although the kids came along, they ditched the family dog in England. To pursue this adventure, they sold nearly everything they owned to buy a 23m-long wooden schooner, which became their home for the next decade.

A year into their voyage, while sailing the southern Indian Ocean, 50-foot waves driven by hurricane-force winds pinballed the family around in the boat’s cabin. The vessel almost sank, and the author, then just 7 years old, suffered a fractured skull. Despite this close call, Captain Papa’s resilience was praised by the press, and the journey was celebrated by the public and media.

Captain Papa didn’t even know how to swim!

Secondhand rage towards the author’s parents aside, I’m really enjoying the book. What can I say? Boat stories float my boat.

You know what else involves boats? Lake Bled.

Continue reading “Going pear-shaped.” →