One on a Saturday just because...

Today is the last day of La Vida Bachelor 2010. The family will be home by the end of the day, and I'm gonna try to squirt out for one last shitty ride before they come home... after I clean the house and make it look like I didn't live like a pig for a week. I won't be going to work on Monday, so I don't plan on being up early before work to post a new entry for your viewing pleasure. I was going to squeeze something out there this morning about how I am homesick for dirt, but then I clicked over to Mike Ferrentino's blog for a looksee.

I know some of you think Mark Weir is an asshole. Some have met him and formed an opinion, while others have just made their decisions based on hearsay and rumors mixed with conjecture and preconceived notions. I've met him, and I can't say I have any room to pass some sorta judgment on him... not like it's our duty as humans to go around judging folks, but it's what we do, right? Recently Mark was the victim of a house fire in which he lost everything, save for the important things, his wife and kid. I don't know what that has to do with anything, other than the fact that people can maybe see him as a human now.

I said "Who's house?"

From what I gather only a few people really KNOW Mark, but after reading Mike's blog this morning I feel like Mark must be a brother from another mother. All the things I was thinking about saying this morning he already said in a much more eloquent manner than I probably would have. So without Mike or Mark's permission I have cut and pasted the following excerpt* which came from the brain of a man that I will refuse to believe is an asshole:

I guess I would like to talk about different stuff, not just about racing bikes and epic hard rides.

I would like to talk about the battle to never want to lose the love for the ride.

Riding bikes is the first thing on my mind and the last thing before I go to sleep. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

I hate that maybe what I really do may not be that interesting and carry enough press to keep the dream alive.

I’m not saying I have had a toughest life around. I have lost touch with people because I picked my bike first. I stopped riding with people because they did not emit the vibe I was looking for from a riding partner.

How could I love my family as much as I do without riding my bike this much? That’s a question I don’t like to think about and it sounds ridicules.

I feel like my addictive personality comes through worse everyday. It would seem that there are a lot more people like me.

Some times when I wake up my mind sounds like rave music. I hear different thoughts at a million miles an hour.

When this happens I can not focus on anything. That’s when I get on my bike and float the valves till they go away.

As corny as it all sounds. Riding my bike is not my job, it’s not my hobby, or a vain conversation. It is the thing that makes me sane. My bike is a tool that preserves life.

Mark Weir: Cabbage patching his way down the trail of life.

photo by Forrest Arakawa (I think)

Remember, one man's asshole is another man's.... unnhhh.. I dunno where to go with this.

* You can read it all here: http://www.santacruzbicycles.com/104bronson/?p=783