6 Hours of Warrior Creek '19: Preamble

Friday night.  There's going to be a teenage sleepover under my own roof.  That does not sound conducive to a good night's sleep to me.  I decide to crash at Bill Nye's House, since he's gonna be joining Nick "Dip 'n Spray" and I for the trip up to North Wilkesbermo because his broken body won't let him do much more than spectate and gimp around.

Get off work, ride home, pizza, shower, beer, pack the car... head over to Bill Nye's house around 7:00 or so.  I'm fully stuffed, but he made pop corn, and I do love me some popcorn.

Start to watch some movie, Colin shows up as if there's some kinda TV party going on... we end up talking about Jaws because Bill Nye just got the shark Quint drew on the chalkboard tattooed on his calf earlier in the day.

I ask Bill Nye if he's ever seen the Jaws documentary about the making of the film.

"How am I just hearing about this now?"

So we put that on and commence to go deeper into the night.


I only brought over X amount of beers to ensure limited damage points. The documentary will have a hard stop slightly after 10:00, so I should be in good shape.  10:30 and I head to the spare room... and the air mattress that I'd unfortunately pumped up to something like 120PSI.

Roll around on the rock hard mattress, consider letting some air out, and fully realizing that I might let out too much all at once forcing me to have to get out the pump and start all over... I do nothing.  I hear Colin and Bill Nye out in the living room, fast forwarding Jaws to the best scenes and watching them.

I left one sleepover to join another.

A rather fitful night of sleep with random wake ups at 1:00, 4:00, 5:00, 5:30... some of which being slathered in my own drool. 

I might be a wee bit exhausted.

Up, pack the car, stop for a cup of coffee, meet up with Nick in a Walmart parking lot, get to Warrior Creek around 8:30.  Plenty of time before the 10:00 start.

Get my shit straight, dress to 90% readiness, head over to the shitter line to be sure I'm 100% voided.

Some guy in the shitter line tells me that he reads my blog and I respond with my usual empty threats to kill it with fire very soon.  Probably "thanks" would have been the more appropriate response.

If you read this, polite bathroom guy, apologies for lack of a better response to your kind words.

Walk out of the bathroom, look up the hill... people are already lining up at the crowded start line.

Shit.

Run my bike to the front, back it into the line per standard douchebag protocol, ask my Duo SS nemesis Jarmz to hold my bike.

"I'll be back in less than five minutes.  Promise."

Helmet, gloves... what else can I forget that will make the next hour plus of intense effort even more regrettable?

Get back to the line in time, crawl in to where my bike is still being very thoughtfully cared for by Jarmz... listen intently to the rider meeting instructions... go back to nervously anticipating the (as always) sketchball, full-intensity start that is the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek.