More Dirt and Sweat (with less Patio Sex)

The normal citizens at work know that if I'm taking time off this time of year I'm probably at a bike race. When I return to the 8-5 grind I get the usual questions:

"Where did you race this weekend?"

"Did you win?"

"What was it like?"


Yesterday I felt it would be easier to explain that I was abducted by aliens and anally probed rather than try to get them to understand the truth. No, I didn't win. Did I quit? Define quit. Could anybody who doesn't ride a mountain bike ever understand the concept of a bike weighing more than 100 lbs that has the wheels glued in a stationary position? My bike weighed almost as much as me, and let's face it... I'm not built like a beast of burden. Sure I may resemble a donkey, what with my big ears and porcelain overbite... oh, and my enormous manhood, but these traits hardly come in handy when it comes to dragging a useless hunk of metal, rubber, and earth over the rolling, ivy infested terrain that is the backwoods of Tennessee.

Number 66 again. Swiftwick membership has it's privileges.

Pete-unh had (and still has) a lot to say about my lack of singlespeedieness at the event. All I can say is that I tried. Thursday I was up at 5:30am, and we were on the road in an less than an hour. Will and I stopped at Industry Nine for a coupla hours (more about that later) and then had lunch in Asheville before finishing our drive to DSG around 5:30pm. We set up camp and then headed to the DSG VIPOTPU (Very Important People Other Than Pete-Unh) party. We stayed there until race promoter and all around good guy Clay Higgins hid the beer and kicked us out. When I got back to the campsite I convinced Thad it would be a great idea to go tap a keg and keep the party alive. When it was looking like a good idea to go to bed the word was spreading that the Candianicans were just a piece up the road, so we decided to hold out just a bit longer. By the time I got to bed it was aboot (Candianicanisms are fun) 2:00am central time (@21.5 hours since I woke up that day).

To quote gRant: "We hit the throttle a little too hard last night."

I wouldn't say I woke up Friday morning. It was more like coming out of a coma. I laid there in my poisonous sweat vowing to never do that to myself again. I rocked back and forth in my sleeping bag wishing someone would come hold me. Eventually I rolled outta bed close to 11:00am, a record for me as I usually come out with the first hint of dawn when I'm camping. It took me awhile to come around, but eventually that afternoon I headed out to pre-ride the course with Thad and MOOTS el presidente' Rob Mitchell.

Now I'm not one to brag, but Thad and I totally dropped the MOOTSCEO. I'm sure he was impressed with our mad skills, awesome speed, and high level of professionalism. Surely we are the best ambassadors to ever be graced by the likes of MOOTS. Actually Rob told us to go on without him, and that it had nothing to do with my absolutely repulsive body odor. Victory!!!!

Friday came and went, and you all know how my race day unfolded. When I crossed the line after my second lap race talker guy Bruce Dickman helped me rehydrate as MOOTS commander in chief Rob observed from a distance.

"We haven't sponsored a rider since Ruthie Matthes, and now this is what we're doing? I'm not sure we're heading in the right direction."

From the beginning of my second lap till I went to bed I forgot to drink water as I was either "getting my game on" for a potential third lap or celebrating the fact that there would be no third lap. By the time the party got kicking that night my body was wrecked, my mind fuzzy, and my eyes bleary. I pussed out and slunk away into the darkness as the party raged on into the night. I sucked.

Ironically my cyclingnews.com ban was lifted, and I finally made the big time online news site.

After a quick shower the post race partying was in full swing. Photo ©: Dave McElwaine/www.trailwatch.net

I shoulda known they'd get their facts messed up. The party was only in three quarters swing at that point, and if by "quick shower" they meant I was standing in a dirty creek next to the parking lot swatting my publicly nude body with water that looked like chocolate milk, well then I guess I did have a "quick shower".

More tomorrow?

I think so. I haven't even told you about Charlie yet.