It's like I'm running towards the storm

Yesterday was an odd day. Let's face it. I'm four days away from leaving Charlotte bound for Sun Valley, and I'm freaking out.

Yet the life of being a sorta sponsored professional douche rolls on.

Packages of happy rolled in. The Pie called me at work.

"Something from Swiftwick showed up."

Some ultra- lightweight Pulse socks and some sexy limited edition Vision socks.

Sweet, but not what I'm really anxious about. I mean, socks are nice, especially socks so thin it's like I'm not wearing socks at all. I've been waiting for these but making due with the super short pair of Pulses Thad gave me two years ago... back when he adored me.

I came home to the box of sock happy and an odd envelope. Not expected but requested nonetheless.

Some GU Roctane product, big time sponsors of the near and dear to me, Breck Epic. This does not make me a special douche. I'm just an average douche preregistered for the Breck Epic who filled out a form and waited for something to show up. Since I've never been picky about what I use for hydration, I'm always anxious to try something new in my search for anything other than beer.

Still, the one thing I was anxiously expecting had not been delivered by the time I arrived at my domicile.

I waited...

for like an hour.

And finally there was a ring at the door.

The UPS man brought me the box of pure delight I was waiting for. Within the next seven minutes, I had released it from its corrugated cardboard prison and had it mounted thusly.

A prototype MAXXIS tire that if you had your ear to the ground, you'd know what it is. Big, voluminous, awesome, black... everything I like in a tire and a woman. Yet, due to some contractual restrictions, that's the most I can say about it.

Well, I can say that it has big knobs and is made of something other than Corinthian leather. Being a test rider has its limitations but obvious benefits. I love big rubber, and I was finally able to hit the reply button fast enough to get one...

Just in time to leave town without my bike.

Segue.

Details, other than when the airplane dumps us off and whisks us away, have been limited and ambiguous. We are flying in early enough to join in on the fun of the Super Duper D race, but I don't know if there will be bikes ready for us to ride. I have been assured there will be, but Chopper has fallen into the seam of people that enjoy toying with me. There is a strong chance that Zac and I will have to beat none other than Travis Brown and Western Spirit head honcho, Mark Sevenoff in an unlicensed game of badminton to the death in order to get our hands on the bikes.

Then we still have to set them up, adjust the tires, suspension and cockpit, test ride them down Chopper's stairs, and the next day race them down a 12 mile long, "brake-burning, eye-blurring" 3,000ft descent.

How many trips down the stairs are necessary to properly bed-in brake pads?

Guess I'll find out.

Our ground transportation from the airport is confirmed as a " 1 FULL SIZE2/4 DR", but Chopper has eluded to the fact that once we hit Sun Valley, our transport will be just as described in the contest :

For this kind of trip, I have no worries. Shit's gonna get nuts. I have no doubts about that. If there is anything I like to do, I will do it all in excess. For nine days, it will be my own private Idaho.



Sorry. That was gonna happen. We all knew it.

I will OD on coffee. I might have a hangover that lasts for 32 hours. I will do at least one thing I
regret.

Four more days to go.

I will do what I can to occasionally blog, facebook, and tweet. It might be hard to do with a badminton racket in one hand and a 40oz in the other. Follow me or friend me if you can help with bail.

Random excerpts from Chopper's recent emails:

"...three peckered billy goat."

" I live in the woods and have a lot of mosquitoes"

"paragliding and gun shooting while drunk seems great in theory"

"bring your own slippers to the slumber party"

I can't wait.