Seriously, I don't know where the time goes.

Rough day yesterday.

I had the time to blog, yet I chose to do none. Instead of using that opportunity to sleep in or train, I did neither.

I pissed my time away for the most part. Eventually I was overcome with some kind of motivation, and I started getting ready for this weekend's Pisgah Eleventy-One.

Six bottles in front of me like a frontal lobotomy.

That's my guess. Nine hours, six bottles, two flasks. This is based on a lot of conjecture and nonsense, a bit of logic and reason, and a healthy dose of apathy and lethargy.

Mixing drinks is hard work.

Filling flasks is tedious.

Bike racing is hard.

Regardless of my inability to enjoy the prep work involved in making great bike race, I have secured an actual bed, complete with pillows, sheets, and the opportunity to get bed bugs, for the night before the race. I am convinced that sleeping indoors for eight straight hours beats six hours of broken sleep in a hammock listening to fucked up birds that severely lack manners and reveling campers who don't have to ride 111 kilometers the next day.

I went looking for a room to share a couple days ago on Vis-à-Vis Livre. The only offer I got was from Charlotte local, Layla... also known as Miss December of the 2012 Dirt Diva calendar.

Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, Layla's husband will be joining us. You might remember him from a blog post of yore... Rodney.

He's the guy that wrecked on the jump I helped rework at the Short Track race back in January of 2011. I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about. Perhaps he wants me to find out what gravel tastes like. We'll see.

Maybe that's the reason that I didn't sleep well last night.

It probably had more to do with the twenty No Bake cookies I ate before going to bed. Am I the only one who has No Bake night sweats?

Just me?

Thought so.

I will be camping after the race, being that I have a 12 pack of PBR to keep the birds quiet. It might also help wash down a mouthful of gravel.