Archives for category: single parenting

Drat! My finely honed curling reflexes have done me wrong again.

The right foot forward, left foot kicking and pushing of my championship curling form does not mix well with the toe clip overlap of my randonneuse and has put me on the pavement once again. My phrenologist has warned me that a few more bumps on the noggin and I will be relegated to the recumbent trike of shame for my own protection.

As I lay on the pavement testing my limbs and joints I muse on the many similarities between curling and randonneuring. The most obvious is the adaptation that most randonneurs and curlers have of thickening the middle of their body for proper balance and grace and the other is the propensity for blogging their own point of view as if it were God’s Own Truth in the rough.

My favorite curling blogs, Lovely Broom and Off The Swept Path often devolve into TMI about Lovely Broom’s struggles with dyspepsia and Off The Swept Path’s tiresome obsession with fast curling, but nonetheless they are enjoyable in their own way. The recent book Just Curl, was a little over the top for me though.

My own middle thickening is sadly just a temporary condition as a result of my drug (I hope) induced pregnancy, but I really am looking forward to the little bundle of joy even if my middle will not be thickened like my peer’s when my little sunshine arrives. I simply refuse to learn the gender – how little mystery we allow ourselves!

my future - my joy!

my future – my joy – my next 200k

It is a sad comment on society today that no one offers to aid a pregnant man lying in the middle of a safeway parking lot any more than they offer to hold the door or offer a seat on BART to a man in my condition. I won’t even start with the horrible paternity pants and muu-muu’s available – who designs these things anyway?

When I lose the prestigious middle thickening of a prime randonneur and gain an heir I will once again be relegated to the ranks of randonneur and curling poseurs by the uninformed; but I will feel better about my inability to satisfy my vanity and their prejudices because of the environmental consequences of those who can attain proper form.

Another mania that both randonneuring and curling share is an obsession with medals of accomplishment and one that I am proud to display! Behold and weep before my club playdown medals and my McNaughton Event medals mere curling mortals!

Someday I will augment those fearsome badges of honor with my PDP 2016 finisher medallion on my cap – right next to my other Randonneuring medals of glory – as soon as I can find it.

Contribute to my diaper service fund here if you have even a smidgen of sympathy for a single parent randonneur. During my paternity leave I will be working on my second coffee table/how to book, Randonneuring and the single Parent.

Gotta go – I have to arrange a few things in the baby room and make invites to the baby shower. So much to do!


Years of abusing performance enhancing drugs such as water, ensure, beer and bagbalm have finally caught up to me and has tragically resulted in my pregnancy and this humiliating court-ordered confession.

I hereby offer my sincerest apologies to all of my fans, supporters and probation officers – I am sorry.

Sorry I had an overwhelming desire to finish randonees whatever the cost! I nearly changed my name to Aarthur Aanderson, just to ensure that I was listed first on every list of entrants and finishers to each randonnee. I am thankful that the (now very obvious) telltale signs of my condition alerted my handlers to my desperation.

I still seek some understanding as to how exactly I became as I am now, pregnant. Was it the drugs solely? Did something unspeakable happen to me when I passed out in that sandstorm in Morocco during PDP 2016? Read all about it in my new coffee table book – order before March 31 and you will receive an autographed hand-drawn picture of my new bicycle as well!

Rumours that I am experiencing an hysterical pregnancy because of off-season boredom and the desperate need to promote my new coffee table book are unfounded and downright mean.

If you see me, offer me a beer and I will tell you all about my condition and throw in a few stories of my intrepid exploits!

au revoir mon cher!