First off, keeping a blog is way easier than keeping a pet or a drug habit. It turns out that you only need feed it once a month or so. I'm sure all the real writers out their feel differently about it, I imagine Hemingway needed to write like Van Gogh needed to paint. I like to think thats how riding a bike is for me. I know that I sure get cranky when I don't get to pedal, and if I didn't pedal to work several times a week, I might not get to pedal at all. Thebike snob loves to bitch about his commute, but when I see all the sorry sap suckers in their stupid cars, I have to gloat. Who can complain about this:
Forgive my photographic skills, I'm still honing my in-situ abilities. But as you can see, it's not quite freeway. That is horse pasture fence however, and I make a real effort to say a personal hello to the equines every day. While a true back road wouldn't even have a yellow line, I'm a hell of a lot better off than these folks:
Note the line of cars goes all the way around the corner. In fact, this particular bit of traffic extends for at least 2 miles. That picture was taken no later than 7 A.M., before rush hour even gets started. The good news is that most of the cars are going the opposite direction, towards Washington, D.C. The bad news is that I'm headed for a sweet 12% grade. It's only 500' long, but more than enough to get your heart rate up.
The other morning I saw a fox bounding through waist high grass, then spooked two buck white tails still in velvet on my morning commute. No XM radio though...
PRE-LEADVILLE EPIC #2
This past weekend I entered in the 12 hours of cranky monkey which just so happens to occur on Marine Corp. Base Quantico. Looking forward to the 100 miles of Leadville, I've been training and felt I was in pretty good shape. I've never really wanted to make the podium in a race before. It's always been about doing my best, leaving it all on the course, and finishing in the middle of the pack with a big smile on my face.
This time, I wanted blood.
Even if it was my own, as long as it was mingled with the #3 racer, I wanted to WIN.
My goal at the beginning of the day was 10 laps. The course was 10.something miles, 10 laps meant a leadville equivalent. Doing the calculation, I needed to keep a 10mph average and take no breaks.
As my partner King of PNP's girlfriend will tell you; I get super nervous on race day. I can't sleep the night before, I show up 2 hours early for everything, I can't decide whether to cry or puke. So when the race finally starts, I'm mostly relieved. This race started with a looong 3/4 mile LeMans style run:
Thats my phat ass in the baby blue drunkcyclist jersey. I consider that jersey a talisman, a charm to ward off all the pain that a 12 hour mountain bike race brings. Too bad it didn't work for shit; that race hurt worse than anything I've done in my entire life. And I was in the Marines, Damnit!
My 10 lap goal gradually went out the window. By 2 in the afternoon, there were more people walking their bikes than actually riding them. 94F with 50% humidity, like riding your bike in a steam room. The hills were soul smashingly steep, the kind that teach people about congenital heart defects. 9 laps later I was thanking my lucky charms I didn't have to go for 10.
The good news is, my pain was the fifth worst of all the solo bastards out there. Considering there were 55, I can suffer with the best of 'em. Now if we can just get big jonny to print some more jerseys, I can have a clean one to wear on (or next to) the podium.
Notice that I'm the only one still sweating. The sweating didn't stop until after midnight. And just as a reference point, I drank a nearly a full camel-bak each lap.
1 camel-bak = 100 oz
100oz = 0.78 gallons/lap
I did 9 laps, but since I didn't drink a full camel-bak each lap, conservatively:
8laps*100oz = 6.25 gallons!
I took a piss 3 times, and not much came out.
How long did all this take?
Yeah bitches!
See you in Leadville.
P
