Saturday morning I awoke with no plan. With trail work scheduled for 9:00AM and a sick and tired family, I chose to help out, putting me just one day short of my 12 Days in 2012 commitment. I felt like I had to put in my time, as I didn't like the most recent addition to this trail very much, and the new rule is that you have to volunteer 10 hours per complaint. I was able to add my less than valuable input to try and provide a little "flow" on this new section. At one point, I ended up separated from the two work crews, and I got distracted.
The trail went right past a huge boulder the approximate size and shape of a 1970's console TV. Nobody was around, so I located two very large ramped shaped stones. They were too heavy to lift, but not too heavy to awkwardly roll uphill. It took about a half hour's worth of grunting and pushing, and the end result was something I think no one will ride anyways.
My arms now feel like someone beat them with hammers.
When I got home, I lost a wonderful sunny day to leaf removal, beer, sap removal from two vehicles, beer, gutter cleaning, beer, more backyard elevated structure disposal, and more beer. I passed out on the couch, drooling all over myself while It's a Wonderful Life played in the background.
I woke up Sunday feeling like not racing cross. I loaded a pack with beers, an ice pack, and a cowbell, hopped on my bike and headed North. On the way, I scouted the trails that are under my jurisdiction for a future underground'esque race. My accountabilibro could not come with me as he had intentions to race cross later that day. I tried to use Map My Ride to record the required data, but I failed miserably.
Pissed at my lack of usefulness, I headed over to the cyclocross race.
It was a long day. Charlotte is still not a vibrant cross locale, as far as dirt bag enthusiasm and hooliganistic behaviors. Beers are drank, but discreetly. Hand-ups of beer are not happening at all. Dollar bill hand-ups do nothing but confuse the racers.
shopped by Paul C
Cross racing was spectated from the lowest of classes all day long until the Cat 1's left the course. On the way to The Diamond for some well earned unassembled gyros, we passed the same garbage pile where Lee had found the hat that morning. Apparently he didn't dig deep enough.