Egad!
Can it be that Monday is so near?
Can it be that Monday — verily, a mere two-ish days hence! — the Latest
(And some would say greatest)
Version of the FatCyclist.com kit will be available for pre-order?
Yes!
It is true!
Shout it fro the rooftops!
Figuratively, I mean
Don’t do it for real
Because the neighbors would complain
And we don’t want any trouble
I look deep inside myself
And ask
Shall I give a hint?
A glimpse into what is forthcoming?
Of course I shall!
For I am
If not a showman
Then what?
What, indeed?
But how much to reveal?
That is the question that weighs on me
Like the oppressive weight
Of one thousand cinderblocks
Or at least a very large burrito
Eaten, ill-advisedly
For dinner last night
I have regrets
Shall I be miserly?
Shall I show only the merest glimpse?
Shall I tease and flirt?
Is such behavior becoming
From a man closer to his deathbed
Than to his birth-crib?
I do not know. Truly I do not.
Well, maybe I shall just wing it.
Let us begin with a hat
Yes! A cycling cap!
And not just any cycling cap
But one made of a technical fabric!
It shall wick and stuff!
And be very comfortable
Whether worn under a helmet, or alone
Let us check it out, from multiple angles, anon:
Is the hat all that is new?
Surely you jest!
(Respectful pause for the appropriate Airplane punchline)
For this year — like many years — there is a bottle
But this year, oh.
Oh my
What a bottle
For I have searched many a year for the ultimate, perfect bottle
And now I have found it
It is better than the Camelbak bottle I used to love
It is better than the Specialized Purist Bottle I still love
It is the Specialized Hydroflo Purist, with a Watergate cap
And I simply cannot imagine a more perfect bottle existing
For two months
In deepest, darkest secret
I have used these bottles
And now I will use no others
These are that much better
I have yearned to tell you
But I have reserved judgment
Because I wanted to know for sure
The time has nearly come
For me to hold forth
I will explain more soon
And what of socks?
Here’s a thought
What if I were to merely show
An extreme closeup
Of one part
Of a sock
That would be kind of dorky
Of me
Would it not?
Which, you must admit
Would be in character
Yes yes you say
But what of the main event?
What of the jersey?
Shall there be no hints of the design
Of the new jersey?
OK fine
Here you go
Truly, I hear you say
Seriously?
That’s all you’re going to show?
Will you reveal no more
Of this much-hyped jersey design?
OK.
I see your point.
It is bold!
It is stripey!
It looks better than pretty much any jersey
Worn in the pro peloton
Today!
And, I have it on good authority
It is quite slimming
As well
Is this all, then?
No!
There’s more
And you shall see it
And may pre-order it
Beginning this Monday
At 10:00am ET / 7:00am PT
I’ve had what you might call an interesting couple of days, starting with a phone call I got from the twins (usually I work from home, but on this day was in the Salt Lake City office).
“Dad,” one of the twins said, “There’s a huge fire on the mountain behind our house. Do we have to evacuate?”
I looked out the window. Even from 30 miles away, I could see the giant plume of smoke rising into the air from the direction of home.
“I’ll call you back,” I said, and then called a neighbor to find out what was going on. Evidently, some people in my town had been evacuated. Our neighborhood was fine — for now — but it still seemed like a good idea to get some things packed up, just in case.
I called The Hammer.
“Can you get home right away?” I asked. “And let me know if I need to drop everything and get over there?”
She could, and did.
All through the evening and night, all anyone could do was stare at the mountain. The massive amount of smoke we could see during the day gave way to a snaking trail of fire we could see in the dark.
I got ready to go to bed, fairly confident I wouldn’t sleep well, but — for once — unwilling to Ambienize myself.
By morning, I was grumpy from worry and lack of sleep. And the mountain had gone from green to ashen.
And everything in the house — including, of course, the house itself — smelled strongly of smoke.
So I tweeted this:
Within a few minutes, I started getting responses to my complaint:
I read their advice and admonishment toward a new perspective with gratitude, put on a stiff upper lip, and went about my day, cheerfully enjoying my not-burned-down house, and not at all minding the fact that I’ve probably got thousands of dollars worth of damaged property to clean or replace.
Just kidding. Their responses actually made my blood boil.
Rules For Responding to Complaints
It’s really lucky (for me, and for anyone who reads this blog) that I had a lot of stuff to do yesterday, because otherwise I would have sat down and written a really angry post about how PEOPLE DON’T GET TO TELL ME THAT UNLESS MY HOUSE BURNS DOWN I SHOULD BE HAPPY.
Seriously, I probably would have written the whole thing in all caps. And I would have used a lot of words that I ban other people from commenting in this blog for.
But I had a ride planned, and a barbecue to do. And a stage of the Tour de France to watch (the first one, incidentally, that I did not accidentally learn the winner of before seeing the stage).
And so now that I have time to write, I’ve cooled down. I am much, much less likely to foam and spit as I make my point. Which is good, because I am a prolific foamer and spitter, when sufficiently provoked.
But I’ve still got some points I’d like to make.
People Complain
Here’s the thing: bad things happen to people. Some of those bad things are really, really bad. And some of those bad things are only mildly bad, or — when you’re lucky — only barely bad at all.
Regardless of how bad that something that happened is, people want to communicate it. Why? For a bunch of reasons. Maybe just because it’s interesting or exciting — when something bad happens, there’s often the upside that you at least have something new to talk about.
Or maybe because they want sympathy. Or maybe because they want help.
“You Should be Grateful / It Could Have Been Worse”
Now, when someone complains to you, you get to decide how you’re going to react. You can sympathize. You can offer assistance.
Or you can deny the validity of the complaint by asserting that the bad thing that happened isn’t really bad at all, because something worse could have happened instead.
I’d like to assert that this “It could have been worse” response sucks.
Suppose, for example, you and I were having a conversation and you mentioned that your child was fighting a nasty cold. I could reply, “Well, it could be worse. Your child could have triple pneumonia, horrible breath, and leprosy all at the same time.”
The truth is, for pretty much any given problem, it could be worse. But that’s not what’s at issue, is it? When someone tells you about a problem, chances are they could come up with a way things could get worse — and in fact, the worry that it might get worse could be weighing on their mind.
OK, another example. Suppose I told you, “There was a big fire near my house, and now the house smells terrible and it’s really going to be a hassle to make it stop stinking of smoke.”
You could reply, “Well, you should be grateful your house didn’t burn down.”
And yeah, I suppose I should be grateful for that. And I should — while I’m at it — also be grateful all of the other catastrophes that could happen on any given day don’t happen. For example, no tornado struck. I should be grateful for that. A ravenous gang of rabid honey badgers did not attack the dog. I’ll be grateful for that, too. And there was no plague of locusts, and no door-to-door salespeople stopped by yesterday. And Aldo Nova didn’t decide to release a new album and subsequently claim my basement as the place where he’s going to rehearse for his upcoming world tour.
I’ll make time to be grateful for those things, too.
But you know what did happen? A big freaking fire soaked my house in smoke all night.
So, unless you actually did lose your house to fire, probably the best response is not to point out how much worse it could have been. Instead, maybe just say, “Wow, I’ve been wondering where that smell came from ever since you got here. That explains why I’m fighting the urge to roast a marshmallow right now.”
The Practical Part
So after I spent the first part of this post saying I’ve cooled down, I went ahead and attacked the poor people who told me that unless I’m currently sitting in a pile of ashes I have nothing to complain about.
Why’d I do that?
Well, because I think it’s worth reminding people: bad things happen to people, and then people complain about those bad things. If you want to help, offer actual information or assistance, like this:
You know, actually be part of the solution, as opposed to trivializing the problem.
Or just listen and say, from time to time, “Wow. That sucks.”
And if Aldo Nova is currently singing in your friend’s basement, feel free to say, “That sucks bad.”
PS: Angie left a comment I think is worth excerpting:
As for the folks who suggest it could be worse; I think that maybe they are doing this not because they don’t want to hear your complaint, but because they care about you and can’t do anything else to lessen your pain, so they try to point out the positive of the situation in hopes it will help you feel better.
I think this is probably exactly right. Like many people, when stressed I forget that people are generally not out to get me. I still think it’s OK to complain, but I need to remember that just because someone says something that doesn’t help doesn’t mean that they don’t want to help.
A Note from Fatty: The Utah Tour de Donut is July 7: a week from tomorrow. This is one of my favorite events of the year, for a lot of reasons. First, because it plays to my strengths: riding bikes and eating donuts. Check out my race writeups from 2010 and 2011 to see what I mean.
Second, because it is put on by the American Fork Rotary Club, which seems to have adopted me as their mascot or something (no, I’m not a member of the Rotary Club). Last year, for example, they used the proceeds of this fundraiser to buy a blanket warmer for the cancer center at the hospital Susan went to for treatment.
This year, they’re using the proceeds to go toward World Bicycle Relief, as well as to build a new trail connecting Lambert Park with Corner Canyon.
Both of these causes are awesome.
So. If you’re local, like bicycles, like to eat, like silliness, like helping kids in Zambia have a shot at a better life, and like seeing more local trails, why don’t you come race the Tour de Donut?
It’s insane. And wonderful. You’ll have a great time, and you’ll be doing good things, both locally and far away.
Musings on 2012 Tour de France Contenders on a Calm Summer Morning
The 2012 Tour de France approaches
What shall I think?
For whom shall I cheer?
How can I not know how each stage ends
Afore — perchance — I get to see it myself?
Bradley Wiggins is the toast of the Tour
He is expected to win by all and sundry
Phil and Paul have cried tears of joy
Over the prospect of the rapture
They predict and pray for
Alone in his hotel room
Cadel Evans sulks and frets
“I am the reigning champion!”
He confides to his pillow
“Perhaps I have given cause for concern”
“Perhaps I have not been at my best”
“But should I be truly relegated to ‘also appearing’ status?”
Dissonance
Not far away
And yet far far away
Another man is lonely
For he misses his brother
“How shall I race without my brother?”
He wonders aloud
To all and sundry
Other racers look on
Uncomprehending
“You know, the rest of us race without siblings all the time.”
Chris Horner looks on
Amused and bemused
And enigmatic as hell
All simultaneously
Though he would never use those words
He had been out
And now he is in
Almost as if by magic
And, magically, leading the team
Kinda
Sorta
The pile of Snickers wrappers accumulates
That dude’s going to have to watch his weight when he retires
By way of contrast
Levi Leipheimer
Eats a teaspoon of rice
Specially prepared
And seasoned just so
“100ish kilometers of time trials sounds good”
He says calmly, even as his heart is about to burst
“Real good.”
Then he punches a passerby in the throat
Just because he can
Oh, let us not forget
Vincenzo Nibali
Who has done magnificently
At shooting himself in the foot
For why would a team
Put their heart and soul
Behind a rider who is halfway out the door
When they could instead
Get behind a young man named Sagan
Who has had some modest success in the sprints
As of late
But what of the others?
For are there not others with prospects?
With hopes?
With dreams?
Like Sánchez?
No, I’m sorry, he has no chance
For he is on Euskaltel-Euskadi
And is therefore tradition-bound to do well on one stage
And then discombobulate
Utterly
Completely
And what of Denis Menchov?
Nobody seems to talk about him
Which seems to suit him just fine
Because really
Why would a proven rider
With multiple Grand Tour victories
And a gift for the Time Trial
On a Time Trial-heavy course
be considered a Tour favorite?
Nothing to see here
Move along
Move along
What is the correct course of action one should take when one has a chronic pain? One that seems to be intensifying as time goes on? A pain that one has no explanation for, although one has one’s suspicions?
Well, one could go to a doctor, and get professional advice and help.
Or, one could crowdsource the diagnosis to one’s friends on the Internet.
Ooooh. I like that second option.
Here’s What’s Going On
This is me, pointing to where I hurt:
It’s possible that I’m mugging it up a little bit as I point to where I hurt, because I want to convey exactly how serious and painful my ache is.
It’s also possible that I’m not doing a very good job, in this photo, of pointing to where I hurt. So let me zoom in and circle the affected area and stuff:
It’s not my elbow, as you can see. It’s that area right beside my elbow. Just on my right arm.
It hurts a lot. And it’s been hurting worse lately.
When It Hurts
Now, this thing doesn’t hurt all the time. Like right now, for example. It doesn’t hurt at all when I’m just sitting here, typing. I’m just fine right now.
But here’s when it does hurt:
When I fully extend my arm (pain fades after a moment, though)
When I pivot my wrist, side-to-side
When anything hits this area, like at all
When I hang from a pull-up bar
When I twist my arm clockwise, so my palm is facing up
When I’m kickboxing
OK, I made up the one about kickboxing, but the rest are accurate.
When It Doesn’t Hurt
The reason I haven’t been to doctor to look at this sometime during the past month or two that this has been hurting increasingly badly has something to do with a key time this does not hurt:
When I am riding on my bike
That’s right. This doesn’t hurt when I’m riding seated or standing, or even on a mountain bike with a rigid fork.
It’s just fine, in fact.
And yet, since riding is pretty much the main thing I do, exercise-wise, I worry that biking somehow has something to do with this.
A Description of the Pain
I would describe this pain as a sharp pain. I might describe it as a sharp stabbing pain, but I’ve never been stabbed. I would also not describe it as a sharp shooting pain for the same reason. I.e., that I’ve never been shot, not that I’ve never been stabbed.
An Appeal for Answers
So, now that you know what is going on with me, I’d like you — if you are the kind of person who knows this kind of thing (such as a doctor, or a nurse, or an insufferable know-it-all) — to tell me what’s going on, and what my options are (and especially the good options) for doing about it.
