MICKY DEE AT THREE SCORE AND THREE

Micky Dee
Micky Dee

MICKY DEE AT THREE SCORE AND THREE

Here I am now at three score and three.

A has been, a never was, just a wannabe?

Or am I just another poor copy,

Of a dizzy Don Quixote?

.

Losing hair,

A cyst here and there,

Dreading thoughts of depends,

Instead of underwear.

.

Age makes me slow.

Pain reigns from head to toe.

The stars in heaven know,

I'm an HMO fiasco.

.

The back and neck,

Take their turns.

The shoulders and hips,

Can be the slow burns.

.

Stuck in exaggeration,

Or being paranoid?

My hemorrhoids have hernias,

And my hernia has a hemorrhoid.

.

And yet there’s so much more,

Pain to explore,

Including some intricacies,

That makes my saddle sore.

.

Yo Micky!

Yo Mick-

I had a pretty good Six Gaps last Sunday, though my time was 22 minutes slower than last year. One thing for sure, Six Gaps is one tough ride and Hogpen seems to be getting a little steeper each year.
They have somehow turned what was once a minimally-attended century into the largest cycling event in the entire south east. Now the town of Dahlonega comes alive on Saturday with a "bike fest" and a pro criterium that goes well into the night. 2600 people were on the line Sunday morning and the hot dogs, all lined up at the front, included many of the racers from Saturday's crit.

I muscled my way to the front too, which was absurd, because I can no longer ride the 'Gaps in under six hours, and the front ranks have been set aside for those who are sub-six men. Those days belong to my past, though I did crack a 6:00 a few years ago--I think it was 2007 or 2008.

Maybe I could've shaved off ten minutes with the carbon bike. The Cinelli started to feel heavy after a while, as I was passed by on every climb and dropped from every group I rode with! But still, I had a pretty good day out there--no complaints, no problems, other than dropping the chain twice, inexplicably on a small-to-big ring shift!

No mention is every made of Daniela Iziquerda, the Miami girl who died on the descent coming off Hogpen Gap a few years ago, nor is there much discussion about guys being airlifted out after either crashing or collapsing at some point on the ride. The point is these mountain centuries can be dangerous--that is understood, or at least it should be , but for the huge amount of Floridians doing this thing, I suppose it is amazingly safe!

I "won" my class, but was defeated by a seventy-year old (In the next class up) who beat me by 2.5 minutes!!! I never saw the dude.

Hope everything is going well with you and Jane.

Elisabeth says "Hello."

Bob

Bob
Bob

Yo Bob!

Yo Bob-

The memories of your cycling exploits are seared into my mind.

Very quickly I return to the day we met.

My daughter was freshly born. I had my behind handed to me the week before on the very roads where we met.

It was Speedwell.

It was Tilly Creek.

It was Wajah Bald.

Tom and I out-descended them all on Elijay.

We were ahead by so much.

There was a dot.

The dot became Bob.

Tom was dropped and you were telling me about some Russian sew-ups that you really believed in.

You glanced back.

Was it Brady you saw behind us?

What was it that made you cease all chatter and fly?

It was a NIGHTMARE ON WAJAH.

It was a metric “point to point”.

You rode back to the start making it 120 miles for your day.

I’m down for second.

It’s 24 years later.

Almost a quarter century has passed.

I’ve lost so much.

I’ve lost a step or two, or maybe 24 steps.

Let's be careful out there.

Jane says Hello,

Mick

Micky Dee
Micky Dee

I’ve lost 24 pounds.

I’ve added 24 years.

I’ve lost strength,

And I’m missing gears.

.

There’s nothing quite like,

Being struck,

By two large cars,

And a pick-up truck.

.

I believed that my God,

Would take up the slack,

And that the Great Spirit,

Would watch my back.

.

So here I am,

At three score and three.

My shoulders, hips,

Neck, and back torture me.

.

It’s a throb. It’s a burn.

It’s a stabbing pain.

The right side through the hip.

Can make a man insane.

.

It has been nutrition,

That made me a fool,

And food can prepare you,

Better to duel.

.

My legs, lungs,

Or my heart could burst.

I could die of contrition.

Or expire from thirst.

.

The femurs are too short.

The heredity lacks.

So many variables,

Dropped me from packs.

.

These are no excuses.

No exclusive reason why.

And ours is ultimately,

To do, try, and die.

.

So now I am,

At three score and three.

Withstanding the pain,

Engulfing me till I can’t see.

.

I do not request,

That my pain is no longer,

But I pray perhaps, God,

That I can be stronger.

.

Still the sacrum speaks to me.

And what will the vertebrae say?

And what nerve will have the nerve,

To call it a day?

.

A hundred and thirty pounds,

Allow me to ascend with ease.

But now flat roads,

Can bring me to my knees.

.

I can still descend.

I can carve a curve with pros.

But arthritis negates,

As the hand pain grows.

.

Pain and lies may originate,

From the same deceiver,

And the torment can prevent,

My pulling the brake lever.

.

As if I haven’t enough,

Made my point,

Pain can come,

From every nerve and joint.

.

No shorts with chamois,

Or padded seat,

Can allow me comfort,

Where my butt cheeks meet.

.

Isn’t this a bitter pill,

That I can never sit still,

Sitting in a pack,

Or going downhill?

.

Here I am, three score and three,

As permeating tortures taunt,

And I just scream inside,

What does this agony want?

.

Tolerance is tested. I know the drill,

With suffering that could kill.

And yet I take no pill,

To cure my ill or improve my skill.

.

It’s head pain, neck pain,

Hemorrhoids, and a saddle sore!

Constant sitting! Constant effort!

Like Poe’s raven I cry “nevermore”!

.

It’s a slow erode,

Or I may explode.

Another pack disappears,

Around the curve in the road.

.

So now I tend to ride alone,

Pace-lines quickly tear me down.

I’m reduced to another fine powder,

As I am completely ground.

.

It’s another solitary confinement.

It’s an ashes to ashes refinement.

Few wins but it all depends,

On a win’s definement.

.

So here’s Micky Dee,

More than most will see.

Tattooed and screwed,

At three score and three.

.

.

~Micky Dee~

.

Micky Dee
Micky Dee

The truth is - I'm legally prescribed hydro-codone.

I have taken 2 doses of 5 milligrams each since April.

So my pain tolerance is pretty good.

Hydrocodone is best left alone.

It slows my cardio and respiratory system and it only lasts for an hour or so.

Pain requires more and more of the pill - and I don't feed pain.

.~MD~

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Comments 6 comments

QudsiaP1 profile image

QudsiaP1 3 years ago

To have the passion to do what we desire despite our bodies screaming out 'heh buddy slow down will you?' is after all what living is truly about isn't it?

Bravo to you Micky, bravo for reaching that finishing line and heh that 72 year old guy probably was on steroids. :P


agusfanani profile image

agusfanani 3 years ago from Indonesia

It's an awesome hub which represents your high, competitive spirit. You are always good at describing an event in a wonderful poem like this .


Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 3 years ago Author

Thanks QudsiaP1.

God bless you agusfanani.


mycml56 profile image

mycml56 3 years ago

go on with your young self now...i feel strangely guilty and motivated at the same time. great stories and rhymes ~ take care out there! ;-)


Dim Flaxenwick profile image

Dim Flaxenwick 3 years ago from Great Britain

You are one of a kind , Micky.3 score and 3? You have lot more in you I think.

Many happy years with Jane, who I´m sure will ease your pain.


Deborah Brooks profile image

Deborah Brooks 3 years ago from Brownsville,TX

wow I can see you riding for years and as you get older the pain keeps coming.. I can feel your pain.. I hate this getting older,. it has stop me from doing things I use to do with ease.

I love your poem.. awesome write

many blessings

Debbie

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