The Punk Wednesday rides seem to have fallen by the wayside recently, but hopefully we'll get them back on track in the next couple of weeks. So I was left to my own devices yesterday and had my own Punk Wednesday ride, which was really just me beating myself up on 68" fixed for a couple of hours. It was a bit like that bit in Asterix (in Switzerland?) where the Roman messenger has an "orgy in a basket" and declares that "it's just not the same".
Nevertheless, I finished off at TIBS, and in honour of the traditions of Punk Wednesday refuelled in style with a 'spro and a St Viateur bagel.
What was funny, as in funny peculiar not funny ha-ha, was how two and a half hours later I found myself with a Timmies;
How far, and how quickly, the mighty have fallen! It reminds one of the line in NIN's "Hurt"; "I hurt myself today, To see if I still feel". Here it is in all of Johnny Cash's gravelly wonderessness, and so you can feel yourself the epic Hurt of going from a 49th Parallel, TIBS pulled 'spro to a medium Timmies with milk within one afternoon.
I think Espresso Snob, for one, felt that one!
It occurs to me that I've meandered long and hard on the occasions I remember to log on to SockSnob, but haven't had a sock in a while. So here's what I was wearing yesterday during my descent to the 7th level of coffee hell;
Orange Triathlon Socks. I think you need a certain insouciance to wear orange socks, if you're not Dutch or 45% of the population of Northern Ireland. I'm not sure if I was exuding insouciance, a certain je ne sais quoi or that "....this? Oh just a little something I threw on this morning" (and not in a good way). Certainly, some thought has to go into wearing orange socks; I was wearing the '10 HLT jersey, and that's orange and yellow, so these matched. Seeing as I don't have many jerseys that match with these puppies (just this one and my 2004 Jittery Joes jersey), it was time to give them an airing.
And then there are the silver shoes, but that's another story!
The socks depict the swim....
...the bike (which is appropriately and authentically overlaid with a grease-stain from fixing a flat for someone who was apparently using bunker-fuel or some other, heavier distillate rather than Pedros on their chain )...
..and of course the run....
They amuse me, as socks, but of course it is ironic that they are produced in homage to a sport where socks are not worn! But what the heck, they match a hard-to-match jersey.
Until next time, keep your socks out of the way when changing a flat!