Friday, October 18

Shaken, speared

So yesterday...

7:45  Publish blog post in which I'm leaning towards not racing cyclocross on Saturday after a thorough cost VS benefit analysis.

7:50  Realize that I am part of the Faster Mustache team... friends with benefits.  The race won't cost me as much as I had originally thought.  Hmmm...

8:15 Out the door for my commute to work on the cross bike.  Don't know if I can really call it a "cross" bike, as I've never actually ridden it in a "cross" race.  It's just a bike.  Anyways, intend to ride some of the course on the way home and see how a 39X16 and a bald Larsen Mimo will feel.

8:25  Notice the sore throat.

8:40  Feel like someone shoved cotton balls covered in hot beach sand and Vaseline up my nose.

9:02  Get to work and warn The Pie of a potential outbreak in the Dillen homestead.  Nia was Case 0.  Sharing pop corn on the couch the night before... maybe not so smart.

12:00 Give up the dream that it's just allergies.  Head out and buy Zicam.  Hope for the best.

1:05  Eat a burrito... because... burrito.

5:02  Get off work and head outside.  Raining.  Screw "cross practice."  Head to The Spoke Easy for beer.

5:17  Drink assorted beers, discuss Saturday plans with two people racing cross (Dip n Spray and Kevin) and with two people planning on spectating/drinking (Danger and the other Kevin present).

7:09  Head out, stop at Total Wine for beverages, get home, eat leftovers, pass out on the couch before 10:00.

Meh.  The very temporary excitement of realizing that I was finally going to race cyclocross again... gear selection, tossing around the logic that I have a mountain bike that weighs just as much as my "cross" bike, playing in the sand pits.

All to end up sick and none of it mattering.  I'm not deathly ill.  A half hour of jumping over tiny walls in a park wouldn't kill me, but I'm planning on hitting Pisgah on Sunday for some seasonal trail delights.  The Wilkes 100k is just a week away.

Discretion is the better part of valor.  Shit.  I'm no longer a 21 year old man-child that can spring back immediately after sickness.

That's me, far left... with the unfortunate hair product.  I can't remember everyone's names, but here goes...  L-R: Me, The Gimp, Tarek, some guy, Coach Chuck Norris, Dwight, Dean, Professor Pierce, Dianne, another guy.  We were the Youngstown State Penguin Flyers.  Nobody ever rode that silly bike in the middle.

I still have my wind jacket from the team... which is older than The Boy.  One shoulder torn from an endo over a German Shepherd (at speed).

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah, the weekend.  No racing.  Spectating.  Then a glorious day in Pisgah (whether I'm still sick or not).  Discretion may be the better part of valor, but Falstaff wasn't riding in Western NC in October.

1 comment:

Dwight said...

The guy in the back row right: Matt Mercer, fastest of the flightless birds. And, for the record, I have a photo of me on that funny bike in the middle.