As much as it pains me to say this, I think I’m going to call it a season one day before one of my favorite crits of the season, the hallowed Giro di San Francisco.
I’m not that happy about it.
Last weekend, I showed up to the Vacaville Criterium and proceeded to suck harder in a bike race than I have since the Santa Cruz Classic. At the time, I assumed it was nothing more than a fluke — simply a pair of malicious legs unhappy with my decision not to shave them the night before — and assumed my fitness would come back around to the level it’s been at for the past few months.
That theory has since been resoundingly refuted by my tonsils this week.
I considered taking live-action images of my throat, then thought better of it; there’s no way that’s a good idea, even if only for shock value. Instead, I’ve diagrammatically depicted the “situation” for you.
This is what my throat looked like about two weeks ago (details omitted for clarity).
Take note of the value of t, the tonsil-to-tonsil distance.
This is what my throat looks like at the moment.
Note the catastrophic decrease in t. It’s almost as if the two tonsils decided to give Mr. Dangly a bear hug. As happy as I am for Mr. Dangly and his two new buddies, I’d really like to swallow my food without having to break up the embrace; so far, I’ve had little success doing so.
Now, I’m no doctor, but my diagnosis of that throat-o-gram is, “Holy f*&k that looks nasty.” A real doctor at UCSF’s student health office concurred with my diagnosis and added, “Well, that’s mighty exciting back there. I bet that hurts.” (She then went on to tell me that I probably have Mono; I have to assume I got it from Tyler Brandt’s mom.)
This afternoon, a medical student I know took a look and pronounced that “it looks like you’ve got a big pair of balls in your throat” (apparently that’s what an expensive UCSF med school education gets you). She quickly retracted her diagnosis, and thankfully so; I wouldn’t want to end up like all those Yahoo? guys.
And thus, I’m calling it a season. With the Giro out of question and nearly eight months of racing in my legs, 2010 is over for me.
I have nothing more to prove this season, having just completed the most successful campaign of my P/1/2 career. After some tonsil-enforced relaxation and reflection time, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with the season. I somehow managed to escape with six victories and a good set of top fives, in spite of the fact that I tried to retire this winter and also neglected to train for the entirety of the year.
Don’t think you’ve seen the end of me and my buffoonery; I’m going to try to make it to the Giro tomorrow in time for the W/1/2/3 and P/1/2 races, and without reason to hold back — assuming my tonsils allow it — I’ll be screaming absurd (and likely semi-profane) comments at each and every one of you.
Hell, I might just steal your bike and run around like Godzilla; wouldn’t be the first time.
If I don’t see you tomorrow, don’t worry: I’ll be blogging all off-season long. Keep in touch.