More fun that it sounds...

The weekend was anything but boring, but it will be impossible to convey that here.  Not every weekend can be all racing and METAL like the last.

For no reason in particular, I was up at 5:30AM on Saturday.  I had nothing specific to do, but once I start getting up early for extra morning mileage on the regular, it becomes a habit.  So after crushing the internet and 32oz of coffee, I put on another pot and polished the Misfit diSSent Brontoawesomeous Meatplow V.5.

Just the beginning of fiddling with various things in an attempt to prepare for the Big Frog 65 in two weeks.  If you can tell me just two changes to the bike (out of five) since Warrior Creek, I'll send you some Faster Mustache stickers.  The removal of the Awesome Strap for a weigh in doesn't count.

The rest of the weekend was just trying to cram stuff in. Out the door pretty early to sneak in a couple laps at Sherman Branch on the Dickstickel Meatplow V.6 to make sure it is dialed in for PMBAR in three weeks.  It is indeed dialed.  Aside from the killing of an Ikon that was on its last legs and having to ride out on a squishy rear, much success was had.  Back in the door with enough time for a shower before heading right back out for some family time at Russia school.

Fajita just told me my pink shirt makes me look fat.

Back home and out the door again for dinner with The Pie at Sir Ed's, benevolent sponsor of the Faster Mustache Racing Team of Much Importance.

And then on the bike and headed out to spectate at the Presby Criterium...

Which ended up being just chutting around in a parking lot, watching BMX'ers, drinking beer, standing in the Latta Arcade, drinking beer, ignoring the actual racing, rehydrating from a discarded water bottle full of Cytomax, and ended with some overly enthusiastic sport eating at The Penguin and me getting home at 1:00AM intending to be back up at out of the house in time to watch the Faster Mustache A-Team crush the Cat 5 division at the next day's NoDa Grand Prix at 8:30AM.

I thought The Pie had an alarm set for 7:00AM.  She did not.  It went off at 7:50AM, giving me less than ten minutes to get out the door and sprint over to NoDa.  It was not pretty, but I made it.  Watching a Cat 5 road crit was like watching toddlers play in a knife drawer.  Scary yet oddly exciting.  I saw one rider tag a signpost, a local NoDa resident on his hoopty bike riding against traffic on the course despite being accosted by everyone along his route including the oncoming female racers, and there only seemed to be one USACycling official hell-bent on making sure no fun was to be had by anyone with a USAC license.

After a rather large post-race breakfast with the team, we all went about our days.  Some went for a ride, some were headed back to the crit later that evening for some Cat1 spectating, and I was headed home in an attempt to actually do something... anything productive.

Which I did do.