Friday, July 13, 2012

a disturbing revelation

Besides taking copious notes on cycling while watching the Tour de France (learn from the best, right?), I have also asked my mom questions that might come up if you don't have a team car following you, such as, "Do you bring a phone?" "Where do you keep it, or money?" "How do you handle flats?" etc.

On my very first ride, I discovered the value of bringing tissues since the angle at which you are sitting, combined with the breathing, means a sudden congestion that really needs to be expelled.

So, naturally, I asked my mom where she puts her tissues since the back pocket of my jersey gets sweaty, and it seems a bit troublesome to put them in the pack attached under my seat. She sent me the link to another pack that attaches near the handlebars, and then proceeded with this little gem:
Actually, I've gotten really good at snot rockets, I'm sorry to say!  Never thought I'd be that unrefined at my age.

My MOTHER.

SNOT. ROCKETS.

My world has turned upside down.


ps - Aforementioned mother and my father are en route to Seattle right now to ride over 100 miles two days in a row to end in Portland. I guess when you do that kind of riding, snot rockets are inevitable? But I'm telling you right now, if my dad says he takes a "nature break" without getting off his bike, I quit.

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