At last, I can see clearly on clear days! No more choosing between being able to see fine details while being blinded by the sun, or protecting my substandard vision from the sun’s glare.
Out of the saddle and on to a boat.
Category: cycling
Moose hunting.
Another Saturday was spent under the sun in spandex. Yann and I gave Route Verte #5 a try; we’re going through all the route numbers, almost in order.
#5 took us through a forest of refineries to the northernmost (or easternmost if you have that much faith in Montréal’s cartographers) tip of the island. Just before we exited the island of Montréal, we happened upon a small park inhabited by anthropomorphic animals in baseball shirts standing on stumps.
Caution assorted reptiles xing!
Instead of continuing to argue with Yann about the varying quality of stunt mattresses, I am going to write about today’s bike ride in explicit detail.
Since my crash two weeks ago, this was the first bike ride worthy of wearing bib shorts. On Tuesday, I finished my antibiotics like a good patient, but came up with a new reason to visit the doctor: “My arm looks better but feels so much worse!”
This new doctor prescribed me some pale yellow tablets and promised me I’d be ready to wrestle a ManBearPig in under a week. As I was absolutely sure I wouldn’t be able to find a ManBearPig in the city, Yann and I cycled out to Oka (118km round trip).
A survey of the damage.
Yann gave me a peck on the cheek just before he left for work yesterday. I had to remind him, “I’m not sick.”
It’s been four days since my accident. Physically, I’m doing much better but mentally, I’m either all fogged up from the painkillers, or plainly bummed.
As my right arm got the worst of the impact; I can’t use it for very long before it starts to throb. My full-sleeve is surely camouflaging the severity of the wound. When I pulled off the gauze, there was an imprint of the tattoo on the fabric. I did not know it was possible for ink to leak out a fully-healed tattoo!
If you’re not into mildly gory healing photos, stop here.
Slapped in the face by a butterfly.
Does that count as a bad omen?
Yann and I were feeling cocky after having completed our first double century the previous weekend. This weekend we decided to attempt a back-to-back imperial century ride involving lugging way more than a single air-filled pannier. In my two rear panniers, I packed a tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad (newly repaired after having been punctured by the cat), camping chair, e-reader, miniature toiletries and some warm clothing as the week-long heat wave had died down.
squaremeat.com 