The insatiable Lola.

In case anyone missed it, I’ve named the AI coach that lives in my Garmin Forerunner Lola.

Since my first full day with Lola at my side, March 19, I’ve averaged 19,679 steps a day, which I think is excellent. But she’s gone from asking me to do 10,000 per day to 20,390. At this rate, I’m going to be expected to walk forever by the end of the year.

Besides, once this shitty Smarch weather dies (there was frost this morning… FROST), I’ll switch to cycling as my primary activity. Or golf? Apparently, Lola knows a thing or two about golf.

On the sedentary side of my life, while Kristen continues lapping me on StoryGraph, I’ve finished my second science fiction novel of the year: Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky.

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All the hearts.

Let’s get right into it:

On Tuesday, I received a text from my uncle telling me Opa was in the hospital with heart problems. I was told not to come and that he was doing ok.

My 99-year-old opa is in the hospital? How was I supposed to stay optimistic? I only had about 30 minutes left on the clock, so I told myself I could finish the bike I was working on.

I couldn’t do it. With 15 minutes to go, I bailed and walked my bike home as I was too distressed to ride. Upon arriving home, I crashed on the couch, exhausted from all my emotions. I woke up from my nap around 8pm and checked my phone.

Opa had a heart attack.

Continue reading “All the hearts.”

A week of recklessness.

I nearly made a trip-to-the-hospital mistake at work on Tuesday. I was checking the chain tension on a fixie by springboarding my fingertips on the top as I turned the crank. As my fingers were bouncing off the chain, the tip of my thumb began to get sucked in. I reflexively jerked back my hand before the drivetrain trapped it.

A fixie differs from a single speed in that the cog is tied to the motion of the pedals. Single speed bikes have a freewheel that allows you to coast downhill without pedalling like the devil to keep up with the spinning rear wheel. Ergo, the force generated by the spinning rear wheel of a fixie is strong enough to gobble up a digit or two.

I told a co-worker about the accident that almost was, and his response was: “Oh, yeah, that would have been really bad. People lose their fingers. There’s a website featuring photos of mangled mitts that were fed through the drivetrain.” (I’m paraphrasing.)

I don’t touch fixies often (they’re not as popular in Victoria as in Montréal), so I had let my guard down.

Yann says his shoelaces once got sucked into the drivetrain while riding a fixie: “My shoelaces broke, but my foot turned blue.”

Then, Wednesday morning, on my way to work, I nearly found myself in a visit-with-the-police situation.

Continue reading “A week of recklessness.”