View Single Post
Old 01-23-19, 03:33 AM
Me duelen las nalgas
canklecat's Avatar
Join Date: Aug 2015
Location: Texas
Posts: 9,087

Bikes: Centurion Ironman, Trek 5900, Univega Via Carisma, Globe Carmel

Mentioned: 157 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Quoted: 2771 Post(s)
Liked 140 Times in 114 Posts
Our eyes do get old as we age, and discomfort is common. Watering eyes, irritation, minor abrasions from stuff that didn't bother us when we were younger. I was a longterm caregiver for both grandparents and my mom and they all developed chronic eye irritation. Now that I'm 61 I'm experiencing some of that too.

I almost always ride with safety glasses. Not just sunglasses but ANSI rated sunglasses. I've already had too many ordinary sunglasses break from impacts. I have a clear and tinted set, both with 1.5x inserts in the bottom edge of the lenses so I can see my bike computer or check my phone, or do repairs. I can't see up close without reading glasses. Usually I carry both pairs, clear and tinted, in case I'm out after dark.

Even without bugs, vehicles kicking up gravel, etc., where I ride the wind often gusts up to 35 mph, including almost every ride this year. My eyes would water and sting without eye protection. I rode the final 10 miles home Monday night without eye protection because I'd brought only my tinted safety glasses and they were too dark after sunset. With the 20 mph wind and gusts to 35 mph it was pretty uncomfortable -- I had to squint to protect my eyes from grit.

Reminds me of the opening paragraph in the great American novel The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. It's a masterpiece of character development in a single paragraph. Thankfully, the movie is faithful to the novel, including the entire opening scene, due in part to the insistence of Brad Pitt.

"He was growing into middle age, and was living then in a bungalow on Woodland Avenue. He installed himself in a rocking chair and smoked a cigar down in the evenings as his wife wiped her pink hands on an apron and reported happily on their two children. His children knew his legs, the sting of his mustache against their cheeks. They didn't know how their father made his living, or why they so often moved. They didn't even know their father's name. He was listed in the city directory as Thomas Howard. And he went everywhere unrecognized and lunched with Kansas City shopkeepers and merchants, calling himself a cattleman or a commodities investor, someone rich and leisured who had the common touch. He had two incompletely healed bullet holes in his chest and another in his thigh. He was missing the nub of his left middle finger and was cautious, lest that mutilation be seen. He also had a condition that was referred to as "granulated eyelids" and it caused him to blink more than usual as if he found creation slightly more than he could accept. Rooms seemed hotter when he was in them. Rains fell straighter. Clocks slowed. Sounds were amplified. He considered himself a Southern loyalist and guerrilla in a Civil War that never ended. He regretted neither his robberies, nor the seventeen murders that he laid claim to. He had seen another summer under in Kansas City, Missouri and on September 5th in the year 1881, he was thirty-four-years-old."
--The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, by Ron Hansen

Last edited by canklecat; 01-23-19 at 03:37 AM.
canklecat is offline