The Scar Diaries. Boats, and Bikes, and Christmas Lights.

"Ha, you don't need to keep a diary," said Popeye.  "If you want to remember what you've been doing all month, all you have to do is look at your legs."



Well, my legs, and my arms, and my shoulders...

The highlights of December are clearly marked.  

Perfect 1" round scars on each ankle from the blisters of birthday roller skating.  Scratches from the Saturday morning safari rides.  Fire ant bites from the Full Moon Hash. 

What an excellent month.

The roller skating party on my birthday was so much fun that no way was I quittin' or sittin' until every last minute was up.  No matter what the rental skates were doing to my ankles.

Scout on skates.

Giving  their ankles a break:

Greg, Lora, Roger

Afterwards, the table for twelve at Coasters new bier gartin and 25 Dogfish Head brews available for tasting made my ankles feel much better.  (If not my head.) 

But then, everyone knows the best cure for a morning headache is a run in the park.  And miraculously, my other birthday present didn't rub the blisters at all.  Any bruises were the result of catching my toe on that stump, I'm sure.

New shoes.  Old goals.

Wickham Park Marathon

 2012 - 50k - Who's with me???

The demolition left no wounds, unless you count a few pangs to the heart.

If you see bikes wearing Christmas lights and people in funny hats at your local LongDoggers on a December full moon, don't think a thing about it.  (Just watch out for fire ants at the circle afterward.)

Longdoggers on a full moon.

Smiles got a new 29r.  Awesome!

The boat parade had some amazing lights this year too, but Scout and Pie Man always get my vote for best Christmas decorations.   

Grand Canal boat parade.

From the deck of Sunny Skies.

A little something for Santa.

Every year or two, Pepper is possessed by a vampire cat.  I still have no explanation for the Doctor Jekyll - Mr Hyde transformation. 

Apparently there is no known cure.  The best online advice I could find was stock up on bandages and disinfectant.  

Sweet.

Unsweet.

Fortunately, I had on a long sleeve bike shirt and blood comes out in the wash.  Unfortunately, the scars on my forearm will last awhile.

Popeye's been commuting to work on his bike.  In December that means 15 miles each way using lights.  I can't quite bring myself to ride in the predawn, but I usually meet him somewhere along his route home. 

Riding in the dark and the cold toughens you up.  I guess my evening half-commute makes me only semi-tough.  But it does provide an excuse to admire the Christmas lights along the way. 

 VW sleigh and eight tiny flamingoes.

Each Saturday morning, while Popeye is blazing around Palm Bay with the roadies, Killer and I ride around the block.  The Melbourne block, that is.  35-40 miles, with as much off road interspersed as possible.  Every once in a while our Felasco friends take that route and I get to ride with other people.

Sean and 'Sauce

     

OK, I allowed a "before" picture.

That extra ten has got to go.

At least Killer is at his perfect weight.

Semi at the top of the Parking garage.

Hey, it's Melbourne. 

You take your hills where you can find them.

Christmas with the Chick and her Hubby.  No cuts, no bruises.  Maybe a couple extra pounds.   

I have never been so excited to give a gift.  Who else in the world would love a lime green mixer?  Well, other than me. 

We got out of town for a couple of rides.  Didn't get marked up at either one.  There wouldn't have been room for any more scars anyway.  I've been layering them on as it is.

Greenway underpass at 49th St.

From Santos, it's an easy solo ride west out to 484.  Popeye and his friends did nearly the same ride, it turns out.  You'd think we'd cross paths in nearly four hours of riding, but there're so many alternate routes,  I don't see any of them until I arrive back at the trailhead with three minutes to spare before Popeye shows up. 

I have to say that the terrain out past 49th St. is a little more interesting than nearer Santos.  Those trails between Santos and the land bridge are so flat and so fast, they feel downhill both ways.  But, the upside to boring is no scars all day.

West of 49th St.

I didn't acquire a single scrape at Chuck Lennon Park either.   But not because it was boring.  Quite the opposite.  Swoopy and super fun.  Northstar and I go around a third time before quitting.

  

Tom riding around a sinkhole.

I hope that bike was riderless when it went in.

We did some other, only semi-perilous, activities.  Like the chili cookoff at Pie Man and Scout's.  Testing out their rental SUP fully clothed.  And a round of shots after Murdocks, and before watching Resident Evil on New Year's eve.  (Some things just have no explanation.)

I forgot all about burning old bad habits in the New Year's firepit.

But I did remember to say Rabbit-Rabbit this morning.



The only dilemma was what on earth to wish for.

Happy New Year, everyone! 

May all your scars be worthwhile.