Disgusting DisappointmentThere are a whole lot of things on my mind but not a lot of thoughts about any one of those things in particular. Because that's what I'm big on: thinking about things. First order of business...
Do we have to talk about this? It's disgusting and disappointing (adjectives which are too often used to describe me and my actions). Although I didn't come close to making my bribe-goal to drink even one Chelada I did say that I would drink at least one for Zen and Eric, but they had donated to the general cause of going to SSUSA, not specifically to me drinking a Chelada during the race, so I wasn't legally bound to do so. You can see where I'm going with this can't you? I didn't do it, but it wasn't for lack of trying.
I told Keith that I had one errand to run as I followed him to Sooter's house outside Tucson Friday night before SSUSA: I needed Chelada. Two, maybe three cans. I wasn't sure what Tucson's policy was on after-midnight alcohol sales. I was holding out hope for a late night liquor store or at least a 7-11 that would sell me beer (mixed with clam and tomato juice). When Keith pulled his borrowed big yellow jeep into a CVS parking lot I wondered what was going on in his usually obviously large brain. Keith knew something I didn't — in Arizona CVS has liquor and beer...in abundance.
In addition to the clam-weirdness I realized I needed breakfast, coffee, late night snacks, just in case beer, and a hydrating type beverage for the racing.
So getting the Chelada at 12:30AM in Tucson was not a problem. Good thing to know for next time you're in Tucson. I made the mistake of trying one when we got to Sooter's house. I didn't make it through very much of it before I cast it aside and cracked a Tecate. It is that gross.
In the AM I threw a tall boy of the Clam-tomato-beer-combomination (shut up spellcheck, it's a word. It means the combining of things that are vile, disliked, and abhorrent. You got that spellcheck?) in my rear bottle cage and wedged a packet of Endurolytes into the cage with it (to help off-set the effects of the heat, the altitude, and the beer). Not too far into the race, sometime after I "spun" my 33 X 19 up the first climb, I decided to pop some Endurolytes. I jammed the rest of the packet up my short leg (there were no pockets on my wife beater undershirt). After a couple rumbling fire road descents, as I rolled along on a flat section, I started contemplating my plan for imbibing that tall can of repugnant crap I was carrying...I was carrying, shit. It's gone, I just littered in the Arizona wilderness, I am a dick. The packet of glorified salt pills must have been holding it in. Without them wedged in there, the can had ejected. I was disappointed and relieved. I wasn't too sad that I didn't have to drink a big warm container of clam/tomato juice and beer in the high desert during a (sort-of) bike race.
I guess I pushed the limits of my King Cages. They'll never eject a bottle but a tall boy of weird beer? That's another matter.
photo captioned photos from SSUSA, yeah dude!
When I turned my computer on Monday Am, this is what I saw. "What? It's going to be 70° and sunny. In Boston. In early February?" (Takes another gulp of coffee) "Wait a second...crap!"
This was the weather I'd actually be riding in.
George! He convinced me to do his race, "The Gravel Grinder" up in Vermont in April.
Yes that's a 36er. It made my 29er look like a 26er and it made 26ers look like BMX bikes and it made BMX bikes look like 16" wheeled kid's bikes and it made 16" wheeled kid's bikes look like those little bikes monkeys ride in the circus and it made those little bikes that monkeys ride in the circus look like a bike that Stuart Little would ride and all those bikes were represented at SSUSA so it was easy to compare them side by side.
I still cannot believe that guy navigated that course on that bike. I'm happy to be alive. Milagrosa!
These guys were named Matt and Mark. They were both from Sierra Vista. One of them, either Matt or Mark (I don't know which is which) said "Walk early, walk often, that's what I always say." I rode past him like a total prick as he said it and then...
Bam! I uphill jack-knifed lunging up and over a rock. That's my style.
Make the big move, blow the small one.
Make the big move, blow the small one.
Um, hi Matt or Mark, I guess I'll be civil and walk with you now. Sorry about that time I rode past you while you were talking to me. So like...what's your ratio dude?