Stubborn Little Irish Boy

17 03 2009

The last day of our weekend. We got some fantastic deals on bike gear for Heidi this morning, then took to the streets for a nice hour spin. She flatted when we were almost home and I didn’t have the right tools on me so I had to race back to the truck and swing around to pick her up. Beers followed. And yeah, what a bummer to flat on your first ride ever on your first road bike ever?! Lame. At least up until that point everything was smooth and gravy. She was even rocking clipless (eggbeaters) pedals for the first time!

Santa Maria!

Santa Maria!

Light Rail: The Silent Killer

Light Rail: The Silent Killer

Over the shoulder.

Over the shoulder.

Mesquite repair stand.

Mesquite repair stand.

Beer and bikes. Wish that one was in my stable.

Beer and bikes. Wish that one was in my stable.

By the way, Happy St. Patrick’s Day! and Happy Shave Yer Man Legs Day! (for all you tri-geeks). With a name like Mackey it’s a safe assumption that I’m Irish…not like all the posers that go out drinking their shitty green-colored swill this one day of the year. Real Irishmen drink whiskey and that’s what happens to be in the cup that I’m firmly grasping at the moment. Drive safe you mofos.

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Object Fixation is a Bitch.

26 02 2009
About to drop in.

About to drop in.

Some days you kick ass, and some days your ass gets kicked. Today was the latter. I’ve been doing quite well on the mountain bike lately and this is from a guy who you can spot in the parking lot, loading the bike back on the rack, bleeding from at least two points on his body…on the regular. Anyways today I was barreling down this hill much faster than I would have been if I had any sense of self-preservation and I see this giant fucking rock right in my line. What do I do? What should I have not done? The answer to these questions is unfortunately the same. STARED AT THE ROCK. It wasn’t there when I rode this trail two days ago, which shouldn’t be a surprise, but for some reason I was mortified by this obstacle and it got the best of me.

It's only a flesh wound.

It's only a flesh wound.

After walking it off, scaring the jackrabbits with a few f-bombs, and doing a quick self-check I hopped back on the bike to continue. This wasn’t going to ruin my ride. Wrong. My seat is all jacked up…even after two seperate adjustments it’s sliding all over the place, tilting towards uncomfortable angles, and the last thing I need (beyond my current injuries) is a taint bruise. Not only that, but my front brake rotor is screaming like a witch at every revolution and my handlebars are no longer lined up with my fork.

That’s enough to send me home early. So now I’m sitting in the lazy boy contemplating which hurts more: my elbow or my leg. No picture of the leg because superficially it looks fine, but I can assure you that I feel like Nancy Kerrigan right about now. That is…until this scotch kicks in.

I’m hoping to go watch my Sun Devils take the PAC-10 by beating the Huskies tonight. That’s the plan but it’s a late game (9pm) and I have to work early (6am) and I know there will be booze involved. I must remember that I’m not 21 anymore. I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to mean.





Mackathlon Feb ’09

12 02 2009
Ride on.

Ride on.

I just finished one of the shittier days I’ve had at work. Actually this particularly shitty day has been compounding for several work-shifts in a row and it primarily has to do with a few choice co-workers who either are characteristically fucking lazy, fucking stupid, or some unfortunate combination of the two. But I digress…

When you have one of “those days” it always feels better when you’re able to blow off some steam. Each person has their own favorite practice: booze and/or food probably being one of the more common. I prefer booze myself. Something brown and 80 proof. Straight up with two ice cubes. That’s how I roll. Lately, though, I’ve been trying to be better about my habits. Or at least maintain a proper order of operations. So heading out for a run is typically the first thing I do when I get home from work.

Today was different. I needed something extra to keep me from finding the nearest clocktower. As soon as I got home I rolled out on the bike and hit the trails for about an hour. It was awesome. I haven’t had that kind of fun in a while. Then I traded the bike for my trail runners and ran part of the same route I rode. When the girl got home, we slipped into our suits and hit the pool. So I ended up logging about 9 miles on the mtb, 3.5 miles trail running, and 1500 yards in the pool.

Now I’m home sipping some Johnnie Walker. On ice.

Top tube motivation.

Top tube motivation.

It's not a real ride, unless you bleed.

It's not a real ride, unless you bleed.

I love scotch. Down in my tummy.

I love scotch. Down in my tummy.