Like a fire hose...

Friday night, Alicia and I went to the Roots n' Blues festival with Dusty and Kelci. We had a sitter for the boys for the first time in forever. It was pretty interesting watching the trash come out of the woodwork for the free entertainment. I don't know how many rat tails I saw, I tried to snap some pics of them in stealth mode but didn't have and luck. We had dinner at Addisons and I had a very tasty pizza and a couple of 1554 black ales.

I got up bright and early Saturday to meet up with Steve and Jasen at Rockbridge. I decided to ride out there, and took the singlespeed, which I had just done some work on the day before (new cables, housing, chain). This is where things started to go sour. On the way out there, I noticed something wrong with my position on the bike. It wasn't just a difference in bikes, I can usually jump on this bike and it feels like home to me. Somehow, my saddle was waaaaayyyy back on the rails, and a little low. Not sure how that happened, it hadn't been adjusted forever. So, when I got there, I started to work on it and got it dialed back in, I thought. It was cold, and I neglected to wear knee warmers. Well, we took off, and my knees started to ache from pushing a big gear, the cold, and my position was still not right. I also took a bad line and had a stick go into my back wheel right off the bat. No worries, right? Well, I was really sucking wind, and pushing harder then I thought I should have to up the hills to stay on top of my gear. Well, we rode for a couple of hours, and I had all intentions of riding home until Jasen offered me a ride home. I took him up on it. When we got to my house, I took my bike off the rack, set it down, and noticed that the rear wheel was pretty much locked up. My brake was rubbing so bad, it would skid across the pavement if you pushed it. Come to find out, I had a broken spoke, and it knocked my wheel way out of true. Nice. Well, I went inside and cleaned up a bit, and went to Sams Club with A and the boys. While we were there, I started to notice that I was feeling not so good. I thought maybe I was a little calorie deprived, so I bought a big Coke. Drank it on the way home. Ate lunch which consisted of 2 sandwiches with turkey, smoked cheese, and avacado. Really started to not feel good. Decided to lay down with Dillon for his nap, only planned on laying there for 30 minutes so Alicia could go run, but ended up napping with him for a couple of hours. We got up, and I really felt like shit. Apologized to Alicia for her not getting to run, then went back in and laid down. That lasted for all of about 30 seconds, I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out. I have never thrown up like that, my mouth was wide open and the stream of vomit that came jetting out was impressive. It was roughly the diameter of a softball, hi powered, and full of little chunks of food, and 32 ounces of Coke. I forgot what it is like to puke, how you should not fight it and just let it flow, so I mistakenly braced my legs on the wall behind me with my head hanging in the toilet, and tried to hold back. Oops, now it was coming out my nose too. I heard Dillon in the other room asking mommy if he could come in and see what was going on. Thankfully she said no. Well, I finally finished up, and blew out my nose which was full of little chunks of gouda and avacado. Took off my shirt, which had puke on it, cleaned up my mess and the spatter, and laid back down. I had worked up quite a sweat also, and I had to towel down my body too. Shivered for a bit, then got hot. I skipped dinner, stayed in bed for the rest of the day. I felt a little better Sunday morning, and was able to choke down a bagel, and some coffee. I felt better bit by bit throughout the day, but still not enough to accept the beer my neighbor offered me when we stopped at his house during our post dinner walk. Monday, I felt a lot better. And, I was hungry!

On another note, if you don't know already, Dillon is potty trained, for the most part. I am not a big fan of him pooping in his little potty, I try to get him to use the ring on the toilet so the poop will have some water to cover it and the smell. And, the clean up is obviously easier, you just have to flush it down as opposed to cleaning out the little tray that it lands in on his potty. Anyway, he calls his poops "roly pollies". How funny is that???