All rides will now be rated by the number of peanut butter sandwiches necessary to complete the trip. I packed one sandwich yesterday, but it was probably a three sandwich day.
Before I get into any details, let me clear something up here. Last week’s post regarding Mystery, the Untameable Stallion,left an echoing, awkward silence in the room. Free of metaphor and innuendo I now give you the straight dope (you know, like Carlos Sastre probably uses): Mystery is getting married, in Hawaii, very soon. Yes, he is marrying up. He asked me to share the joyous news here so he doesn’t have to talk to all of you people directly because he doesn’t really like people so much.
The Tour de France is over and that means roadies everywhere are wandering around their kitchens this morning blinking and muttering. They click through the channels looking for a scrap of post-race coverage like a bum tossing your car in the night for loose change and cigarettes. I have a variety of doping scandal jokes to unload, but I am afraid we are at the “not funny anymore” stage so that even I, nemesis and gadfly to professional cycling hopes the winner is the winner and that is the end of the 2008 Tour.
Yesterday’s ride was glorious. There were no big air fireworks really, which I attribute to the Gu-sucking, race pace atmosphere created by joining any two riders who don’t pedal together on a regular basis. By the time the Johnson-measuring contest settled down the temperature was 110 and everyone was ready to bag it-except yours truly and longbow special guest Todd Simmler. After checking off the eastside trails: Fern, Tom Brown, and Cadillac we tacked north and picked off the Live Oak Connector and Overstreet. 5.5 scorching hours in the saddle.
Things sure have changed around here. I’m ready to ride right now this very minute.
Life has reached that full volume spilling over level of activity so I suffer from a bit of blog-paralysis. In my desire to capture everything, I can only manage to sketch and scribble the outline. Feel free to probe for details.
-Juancho
In all the years I have been cycling in town, I think I only logged one ride that lasted five hours.
Should I be skured?
without a doubt
Are you rtill on the POW diet?
actually I cut the rice out so now it’s just rancid fish broth.
You’ll live to be 100 on that stuff! Maybe you could supplement with some weeds and too-slow insects…..
C.T.
p.s. I hear POW’s in europe get to eat steaks stuffed with bleu cheese and a steady diet of gin and tonics… just saying…
That’s some big hours… you’re ready for a north ga epic followed by a party with kegs and bands.
If that’s the case I have recently been released from Europe.
I don’t know Silk, why go when then all those people are there? I get jumpy.
Juancho, next time your momma will Fed Ex you a couple of extra PBJ’s if you send up a smoke signal. Might even make peanut butter, mayo, pickle and lettuce to treat you to gourmet food in the wildnerness. (Fish broth? Ha!) If you’re skinnier than I am, you’re in trouble, btw!
not that radical yet, but we’ll see.
How could Pete do a ride without wheelie dropping off of some impossible obstacle? Do tell bone bag!
Also how could you do a blog about a ride Big Worm was on and not marvel at his cornering skills?
One more thing, I bet someone was unable to shake Stallion off their wheel…what the hell….details Son!
It is hard to know what’s going on when everyone is behind you.
Noice!
that’s total crap of course.