When I was but a young Velominatus, my poor mother was often horrified/embarrassed/disgusted by my typical boy’s habit of sucking back the mucous from the back of my throat and swallowing it… yes, I know, now you’re disgusted too. Taking me to seek a cure from the good Dr Edwards, he let her down somewhat with his prognosis that what I was doing was actually a good thing to clear the sinuses, yet suggested that swallowing was actually better replaced by spitting the gunk out. I claimed a moral victory over mum, as much as an eight year old can over their much wiser matriarch. And so I went through my youth and adolescence into my adult years reinforced with the belief that the guttural snorting and consequent ejection of my snot rockets was in fact something to be proud of and even healthy. Not that I flaunted it, but whenever a girlfriend, mate or colleauge would roll their eyes and declare what a pig I was, I could confidently refute their assertions with the endorsement of the good doctor. I really should have had him write me out a disclaimer note to produce on cue and validate my excuse, and pinned it to the nearest wall with a sticky green exclamation mark.
Of course, it’s not the kind of habit that one just practices whenever the need arises, and carefully timed and stealthily executed ejections became the order of the day. But whenever I got on my bike, the need to clear the passages became more evident and necessary, compounded by the deep breathing and extra work the lungs and throat were required to undertake. Riding a bike and spitting seem to go together like fucking and orgasms (I’m speaking for myself here, but you get my drift). It’s a ritual that is inherent in the ranks from the recreational rider through to the pros. But even among my riding peers, there are always those who share my mother’s view that I’m nothing more than a snot riddled pig and that I should just put up with the discomfort of limited oxygen transportation and the inconvenience of a throat/nose full of lung butter.
So through necessity I’ve been forced to develop over the years a series of methods and moves designed to lessen the impact on my fellow Velominati, and still allow me to keep operating efficiently. Here are some of my top snot tips for the mucously challenged Velominatus.
Just don’t let my mum see you.
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@minion
Which post is that, sugar tits?
@minion
@frank
I think it would be an excellent use of your time to go back and edit one of Minion's posts. I mean, I go back and read his old stuff all the time. And I sure would hate to go back and read an old one that was inaccurate. Please Frank, do us all a favor and help out Minion.
And by the way, GO CADEL!
@wiscot @Daccordi Rider
Must be a superstition thing with Wiggo.
If you do well, don't wash your kit you wore on that day/event as you'll wash out the 'goodness' out of it.
If you're going well don't cut your hair?
By the end of the tour Wiggo may likely end up looking like this;
or this;
At least Robert trims his sideburns!
@sthilzy
He is a Pom, washing day is Friday I believe.
Not sure which Friday of the month but probably one of them.
@frank
Reply #42. it's probably the funniest thing I've posted on this site but was accidental and unintentionally rude.
@Marcus
See when you write stuff like that you can hardly consider it my fault you're becoming stupider. Supporting Cuddles FFS.
@minion
When have you ever worried about being rude to Marcus. I reiterate: hilarious.
@silkrider
Sorry, I was laughing too hard to pay attention... Had I been riding, my bars would've been covered in sugary goop.
@the Engine
Late breaking news: the physio says that there's no soft tissue damage, no herniated disc and (if I can hack the indescribable pain) I can get back on my bike.
love this article (I'm a female cyclist). Got the advice from my cycling brother when I started cycling to snot under your arm, unless you were in a race in which case getting the guy on your wheel in the glasses was all part of the sport (and I still stayed with it...and did some racing!). Used to cycle with another girl we all called snotser behind her back (not somewhere you wanted to be actually) as she would persistently snot over her shoulder while in a group and you'd feel spray (ewww) on your face, know it was landing on your bottles etc... tried to have a quiet word with her one day and was told in no uncertain terms to f**k off... charmer...