The Web Warren

Last weekend, I blogged about how some inexpensive upgrades to my Lotus Excelle bicycle were incentivizing me to get out on the road. One upgrade that didn't work out was the attempt to replace my handlebar pack: because the Excelle has old-style auxiliary brake levers (aka "suicide levers"), the new pack interfered with my brakes and had to be returned in favor of a different model. The easiest way to make sure that the second replacement did not have the same limitations as the first was to take the bicycle to the store, to fit the pack to the vehicle.

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Having missed Saturday's road race, I was more determined than ever to not-miss Team Type 1 at Sunday's criterium. Since a criterium pretty much stays in one place (think of it as racing twenty times around the block to see who's fastest), even if I missed the start, I should manage to catch up with the team somewhere.

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There's an old adage that says success is "one part inspiration, nine parts perspiration". We tend to see only the first part -- the results, the glitzy façade. Except at the finish line of a race -- whether that be marathon, triathlon, bicycle race, or horse race -- all hints of the perspiration (or let's face it, sweat) are carefully hidden.

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One of my scariest trips ever on bicycle was a seven-mile jaunt home from Watertown, Massachusetts to Cambridge in the middle of winter, after dark, on a three-speed commuter with no lights, on a stretch of road which had no street lights but a moderate amount of high-speed traffic. My fingers were freezing despite the warm gloves, and as much (or as little) ambient light as there was from the other side of the river, I found the lights of cars behind me to be a helpful aid as they approached -- but a bane as they passed, leaving me temporarily blinded by their relative brilliance.

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While the title of this post is a play on the French "Poisson d'Avril" ("April Fools" is called "April Fish"), there's nothing funny about it.

We've heard about folk stealing one or more of Lance Armstrong's bikes, but a whole team's bicycles -- and not just that, but also their spares, parts, and tools?

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I've often mentioned that my diabetes role models in someways mirror the "dos" and "don'ts" of "proper (Type 2) diabetes management". When we are presented with a "what not to do" scenario taken from a real person, in real life, we often call that an "object lesson". 

While our original plans for last Sunday were to head into the City (New York City, for those who care) to meet up with other members of the Diabetes Online Community, the combination of short finances and The Other Half's ongoing issues with foot pain and the aftermath of his sciatica attack made those plans a "no-go".

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