I went into work this afternoon to stock up on fuel for tomorrow’s ride: five energy gels, a bag of “share size” (ok, I see companies are using a more inclusive term these days), Swedish berries, 710mL of Gatorade (Glacier Cherry), and a Honey Stinger energy waffle.
Along with never having done cocaine or changed a diaper, I’ve never bonked.
*knock on wood*
Continue reading “Am I crazy, or is that a lot of sugar? “Everything I knew about Slovenia I learned from Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, which amounted to knowing its capital.
Ljubljana.
We wouldn’t visit Ljubljana until the end of our cycle tour. Like many international airports, Ljubljana Airport isn’t even located in Ljubljana. Kranj is the closest city, and that’s where we ended up on July 6th aka Day 1.
It was an 11 and a half kilometre ride to our hostel: the best ride of our trip… so far.
In addition to not researching the country beforehand, I also did not research the accommodations. That’s right, I was a passenger princess. I consider these blog posts my biggest contribution to the trip.
Continue reading “Dragons, butterflies, and Cockta.”The disillusionment persists. Last Thursday, I decided I needed some time off the island. I mashed my overnight gear into my panniers and pumped my legs all the way to Swartz Bay. There, I had seven different destinations to choose from that would take me off Vancouver Island. I’d already decided on Salt Spring Island. Ruckle Park is one of my favourite camping spots, and it’d been several years since I last camped there. In fact, I believe the last time I camped there was with Yann and Ed in 2019.
This time, I was all on my lonesome. The last time I camped alone was… never. That was actually my first time. I didn’t realize until recently that I was an outlier among my friends for never having had that solo camping experience and wanted to change that. (Cocaine and changing a diaper are two other things that most of my friends have done that I haven’t, and I plan on keeping it that way.)
Continue reading “Feeling salty.”Now I’ve also registered for the Tour de Victoria.
Unlike the Royal Victoria Marathon, there was no option to customize the announcer’s comment for my finish. If given the choice, I would have requested another Simpsons quote:
“Pump those scrawny chicken legs, you stuporous funker!”
For I envision being in this condition as I roll across the finish line:
Gabby messaged me on WhatsApp: “Are you riding this morning?”
I tell her my thrilling plans for the morning: go to Uniqlo to try on a pair of linen pants, then drop off some empty cosmetic containers at the MAC store for recycling.
Wait a minute… While I technically have plans, they are the sort I’d be happy to ditch. I always have plans: it’s the whole point of my To Do Journal. It’s been my best defense against couch potatoery. It is also why, after more than a year, I still haven’t defeated the Demon King Ganondorf in Tears of the Kingdom.
The cover of this journal features a foiled print of Hokusai’s The Great Wave. Inside, there are 176 pages of lined paper, 1/3 of which are filled with assorted things to do. Big and small. Essential and absurd. Here’s a sampling of plans I’ve jotted down since starting this journal last September:
