Banana Bones and the Lesion of Doom
WARNING: EXPLICIT POST. NSFEWR (NOT SAFE FOR EATING WHILE READING)
So much time out of the saddle that was spent on the beach in Central America left me searching for more and missing my bicycle. Apparently 5 months off the bike is enough to turn you into a complete NUBE again.
After a few weeks of very intense riding here in Tucson, I ended up with a saddle sore. Fine, I thought, “As a touring cyclist, I’ve had plenty of saddle sores in my lifetime. No big deal.” Well, unfortunately things turned into a pretty big deal due to a random sequence of events.
It all started with an innocent bike and hike on Mt. Lemmon.
I was thoroughly enjoying revisiting my old stomping grounds.
Everything was going splendidly, until my excursion took a sudden turn for the worse when I realized that I would not be making it off the mountain without taking a massive dump. Being the desert, plant material was out as far as wipeables go. I had to utilize a couple of dollar bills and some rocks to get the job done. Dirty money. Redefining the meaning of poo dollar. Putting your money where your ass is. I could go on…
After wiping my ass as best as possible with the rocks and dollar bills, I rode back on to Mickey’s house allowing plenty of time for the poop to be fully absorbed by my shorts and into my open saddle sore. A few days later, I rode my bike from here to Phoenix to meet some Drunkcyclists. Soon enough the thing had gone from a small sore to an explosion. All the tea tree oil in the world wasn’t going to stop this thing. Since the whole point of the Phoenix trip was to ride up there and then go shred some mountain bike trails, I wasn’t able to rest it when I finished the long ride. Eventually, the sore stopped being an explosion and became a golf ball sized tumor thing.
A week before the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo mountain bike race (where I raced on the rockin’ El Grupo coaches team), I was at the urgent care up the street having the lesion sliced open and packed with gauze. It was a nauseating affair, and I learned my lesson: don’t wipe your ass with rocks while there is an open sore on it.
As for the 24 Hour Race, the lesion was the least of my worries. I ended up getting a bum light for one of my night laps and taking an over the bars spill at high speed. My leg looked like a rotten banana and my lip looked like I’d been in a boxing match. It is perhaps unfortunate how much I enjoy mountain biking more than anything else because I happen to be very good at coming off the bike A LOT. I seem to have more talent in other,lamer sports, and perhaps it is the challenging aspect of mountain biking that makes it so appealing to me. That and the fact that I like the crowd, the events are always fun, you get to ride in super rad beautiful places, and I smile so huge when I’m mountain biking…even with a fat bleeding lip. Behold, the monster smile: