Thou protesteth too muchly but okay

Well, shit.

Being in Charlotte, the very place where I do my job that's currently in the public eye like an annoying grain of sand, one might expect me to pontificate about what's going on here.  Sorry, but my opinions are mine and not an internet thing.  We can have a beer and chat about such things in person-to-person type situations, but the amount of social media and actual media has crushed my brain just a bit.

What I will say...

I got sent home an hour early on Wednesday... with very little heads up.  I hung out in the center of uptown to see if this was really real.  This is sorta unprecedented, at least in the past twenty years.  The last time we were sent home for something other than snow was 9/11.  Anyways, go home, watch the news and live feeds and have discussions with The Pie.  Go to bed kinda late.

Wake up.  Start the coffee.  Check my phone.  We're opening late... update at 9:30AM.

9:30AM.  We're closed all day.

Do some adult stuff for The Pie so she won't have to deal with it next week before she goes outta town, ride uptown, hang out with Jon Danger and Nick "Dip 'n Spray" Barlow at B-Cycle, get the sense that things might be happening again tonight.  Go home to spend the evening in a better place...

After stopping at the store first.

Eventually I plan on talking about the fact that I'm now commuting messenger bag-free, but another time.  Suffice to say, I have a plan for bringing home quantities of beer greater than six, but that plan was in a locker in the middle of uptown, so... six pack.

Back to mountain bike stuff, which is the thing I do that isn't affected by politics and hate 99.9% of the time.

I'm going to do the Lula Lake Land Trust 5 Points 50.  I've thought about doing this race the past few years, but I've always decided that I was too tired of making plans and hurting myself for the year.

And then the day after the race occurs, I regret not doing it.  Then, I tell myself, "next year."

And then I don't do it then either. 

So because I've heard good things, and I'm tired of regretting not being there, I'm going.  Despite the fact that logistically, because of work and life, my plan to be there is an eight out of ten on the suck scale.  Fuck it.  I can't face another year of "shoulda, coulda, woulda."

When I asked Justin Mace, race promoter and guy who hands my ass to me at the Fool's Gold almost every time I do it, what I was missing, he said:

"...custom Handup gloves to all registered. Chattanooga brewing company beer. Live music from this rad guy named Dan. Chattanooga whiskey, finishers pint glasses, t-shirts to riders, free primitive camping. If time allows after race we might do a pixy bike race and drag race. Bon fire and stuff."

You had me at "beer."

And then also "stuff."

Because I like ambiguity.

Before I just let it go that Justin beats me all the time, let's not forget this moment:

My last ORAMM and also the last time Bob Moss ever stood below me on the wood... probably the last moment before I was officially a "washed-up has-been."  That would be Justin on my left, still taller than me on the #2 box, but whatever.

So, I didn't always suck.  Entirely.  It just happens to be something I'm getting good at lately.

One more race to go (assuming I don't come on cross).  I'm a little bummed that I prematurely removed my racing mustache, but I'm sure I can borrow some mascara from Nick and fix my upper lip coverage.