My shit is heading towards Denver in Wirun's Honda Fit as I type. Yes, Wirun, Bill Nye and I all have Fits. We're like a car club, except we like bikes... and sometimes we need highly uncustomized cars to transport them.
The timing of the trip couldn't be better. Thanks to Drunk Cyclist FaceLinking to my drooper post yesterday...
hits went through the roof. I probably look at the whole statistic thing once every week or two, so the recent spike confused me.
Nothing better. Soon it will just be me and you (and possibly you and you) again. I promise.
Interestingly enough, I had a quick FB chat with Chris from DC about the whole thing. He suggested I get a fan page on FB, and I had to tell him that like most things in my life, I only want to exert enough effort to achieve moderate success on the daily with a rare accidental flash of brilliance to share with the rest of the world. Otherwise, it's all beer, bikes, peanut M&M's and Pop Tarts here.
Which prompted him to send me this, cementing our e-friendship forever.
Too lazy to watch it? Everything you need to know, right here:
Why subject myself to such an atrocity? I've been treating my body like shit since... I dunno, let's say June. I'm heading to elevation after a long fitness hiatus, and this trip could be some sort of tipping point before the Shenandoah 100 in three weeks. I will either come home in better shape then I am in now or in a slightly larger heap of shit. Avoiding alcohol a few days before leaving on a trip that's been planned almost as much around drinking as it has been riding at high elevations was the least I could do.
As far as pack selection goes, I tossed my Wingnut in Wirun's car... but I plan to rarely use it. I have a feeling I might get a nasty look from the shuttle services while I'm loading up for Monarch Crest and Kennebec Pass with only three bottles, but they don't know me. I'm immortal as much as I am immoral. That, and I might be carrying this:
The Sawyer Mini, fits in a jersey pocket, makes poopy water drinkable. Never had a filter before. Now I have a filter. Ho-Ho-Ho.
And last but not least, I'm looking forward to the possibility of seeing all (most? some?) of my Breck Epic type friends at the Stage 7 after party tomorrow, Little E
the Siesta Motel in Durango. If this isn't the high point of the trip, I'll be amazed.