brian head
is anyone leaving after work on Thursday?
Oh, I forgot, nobody in Durango works. Lucky for me, Miles works a little. I met him and Roan at their house, packed the station wagon and got on the road. Being the last racers to leave town gives you some advantages...you've heard about the trail and trail conditions so you at least think about packing mud tires and warm clothes. And you've heard all about the driving routes, speed traps and the places to eat, golf, tour and shop along the way. Since it was 5pm and pouring rain, we decided to take the quickest route, stopping only once in Moab for dinner and ice cream. Without any speeding tickets and with only one wrong, snee-kay turn, we arrived at midnight and stumbled into Shagman's condo. Feeling my way through the dark, I climbed into and then broke a cot (so much for being quiet).
RnR: register and ride
We woke up to a house full of pro racer dudes, their groupies and soigners...one by one they flocked into the kitchen for a full on breakfast buffet. In an effort to beat the rain, we quickly headed to registration and out on the trail. Thanks to Potts for driving us up the 5 mile road climb to the fun part of the course. I jumped on the back half which was killer downhill singletrack that made you forget you were on the west coast. The Boyscouts were in the feed zone and offered me a 'Cookie for a Kiss!' Um... 'I'm good.'
the park ranger
Kim was "held up" in Vegas and made it to the resort just in time for the afternoon rain, hail and lightning. I picked up some coffee and company (Fred) and motorpaced her up the mountain pass start. Back at the ranch we made some dinner, painted nails and had spa treatments. I'm telling ya, it's rough.
game day
We slept in and skipped the 10am spin. The dirty african flipped pancakes without a spatula, showing the ladies how it's done. Race time brought sunny skies. The start brought pain and suffering. An epic loop that would have been on if only we were at sea level. It took all I had to crawl my way into the top 25. Then I crawled into bed.
Oh, I forgot, nobody in Durango works. Lucky for me, Miles works a little. I met him and Roan at their house, packed the station wagon and got on the road. Being the last racers to leave town gives you some advantages...you've heard about the trail and trail conditions so you at least think about packing mud tires and warm clothes. And you've heard all about the driving routes, speed traps and the places to eat, golf, tour and shop along the way. Since it was 5pm and pouring rain, we decided to take the quickest route, stopping only once in Moab for dinner and ice cream. Without any speeding tickets and with only one wrong, snee-kay turn, we arrived at midnight and stumbled into Shagman's condo. Feeling my way through the dark, I climbed into and then broke a cot (so much for being quiet).
RnR: register and ride
We woke up to a house full of pro racer dudes, their groupies and soigners...one by one they flocked into the kitchen for a full on breakfast buffet. In an effort to beat the rain, we quickly headed to registration and out on the trail. Thanks to Potts for driving us up the 5 mile road climb to the fun part of the course. I jumped on the back half which was killer downhill singletrack that made you forget you were on the west coast. The Boyscouts were in the feed zone and offered me a 'Cookie for a Kiss!' Um... 'I'm good.'
the park ranger
Kim was "held up" in Vegas and made it to the resort just in time for the afternoon rain, hail and lightning. I picked up some coffee and company (Fred) and motorpaced her up the mountain pass start. Back at the ranch we made some dinner, painted nails and had spa treatments. I'm telling ya, it's rough.
game day
We slept in and skipped the 10am spin. The dirty african flipped pancakes without a spatula, showing the ladies how it's done. Race time brought sunny skies. The start brought pain and suffering. An epic loop that would have been on if only we were at sea level. It took all I had to crawl my way into the top 25. Then I crawled into bed.
posted by kricket at 10:15 PM
2 Comments:
How do you know the "AFRICAN" is dirty?
a. his roommate told me so
b. i spent the weekend with him
c. it sounds good
d. all of the above
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