Bitches and hos. Surgery. The worst part of it is (well, besides not being able to go riding for ANOTHER three to five days) that I don't even have a good story. I got my wisdom teeth out, big deal. The last couple of times that I have had to deal with copious bleeding I at least had a good story to tell. Like when I had minor oral surgery on the inside of my lip, itself not exciting, but I did refuse to be put out and watched a scalpel come right for my eyes and root around in my mouth for twenty minutes.
And the time before that, I got to get staples in my head for the benefit of amusing Mr. Gray while he was enduring a much worse hospital experience.
Now all I've got is the fact that the nurse who called to check up on me was confused by my female voice and asked if Shane Ferro was there and how he was doing. Since I didn't correct her, it took her a while to get it. Fun stuff.
In other news, I made sure to celebrate my one good day of cycling for the week by taking some pictures along my ride. I was planning some awesome shots at Emma Wood and maybe even some out past Solimar, but unfortunately I got a flat right before getting to PCH, mile 32 at that point, and packed it in once I got dirty after changing the tube.
An oak tree just before Foster Park. The place where you do all of your breathing through your mouth because of the horses and the manure, but then you regret it because of all the flies. So then you just go faster.
Lake Casitas, where you stop to rest for a second if you feel like you are going to die after making it up the hill. Or you take some water and push on to the downhill.
The opposite side of the river bed from the lake, the view of Oak View back country from the Trail.
Looks like a bombed out Star Wars set to me. The beginning of the oil fields, and the Avenue ghetto tagging.
My beach picture when I got my flat and decided the actual beach pictures just weren't going to happen. I went back to the car, changed my shoes, and ran some jetties on the beach instead.