Props to Dave Chappelle for laying the humor ground work for my adult years. It used to be old school SNL. After Shrek's Donkey left, it has been sub-par in shaping deranged, yet highly creative humorous minds. Thanks be to Jon Belushi, Chevy Chase, Rossana Rossana Dana (Gilda), Jane Curtain, Dan Akroyd, Steve Martin and again Shrek's Donkey.
13th Baby!!!!!!!
Paradise by the dashboard light. We all relate curent nowledge to past experience. This blog entry follows suit. I once had a girlfriend from Nantucket. No. Stop! That's another story all together. I once had a girlfriend who would score poorly on Wayne Brady's sing the lyrics game show. We were listening to the radio or a cassette tape (remember those) and Meatloaf started wailing about mother nature and doing what you can and being barely 17 and being barely dressed (ah those moments!). Anyway, we were singing along and what i heard in her very non church-choir voice was just a few clicks to the left of ON. This girl could floor you with a soul wrenching version of STAND BY YOUR MAN, but Meatloaf, no. It was like Johnny Depp trying to sing King Tut or saying "I'm Gumby Damnit". It didn't work. I turned down the radio and kindly asked her what she was singing. "The words" she replied. Sweet Potato (i'll use this to protect her real name) knew of my ways and she hesiteted to repeat the lyrics she belted out at full blast. Finally, with expert provocation and probably a handful of jelly bellies I convinced her to regirgitate her original lyrics. She distinctly sang "a pair of dice by the dashboard light".
Right then and there I think I peed. I felt a tear trickle down Meatloaf's cheek, just like the Native American in that oh so great PSA for littering. She felt the song, it's gutteral representation of youth and love. She sang it loud and with pure heart but it was just a little off. Intent was there but it wasn't STAND BY YOUR MAN. That's how it was with my SWANK attempt.
Mile 16, cramps. Miles 17 - 40, cramps. Bad nutrution, probably. Prior Thursday night wheat beer fest at West 1st Pizza, probbably. What ever it was, I was a few clicks off of ON. I've raced a few of Todd's races and have been graced by his riding skills (as noted in prior blogs). It's all been rewarding but painful. This race fit the bill.
Earlier I spoke with Cissy about race strategy including the importance of not blowing up in the first 30minutes of a 4-5 hour race. She didn't need race strategy as evidenced by her 4th place finish. I should have taken my own advice. Needing to stay out of the mid-rear pack riff raff, I tried to stay towards the front. It felt great but I was not recovering very well. After an hour or so of back pain, breething hard and general pain, I stopped to leave my scent on the trail via recycled heed and H20. It's amazing what emptying your bladder will do for ya! After my two minute pitstop things improved.
A good groove finally found my legs and I pumped on. Coming back down FS 5003 to the 2nd rest stop, I found a cheering crowd in the name of the Kahne family! What a help that was - to have Shrimper, Bergan and Henry all yelling for me. I was revived and opted to not stop for fluids. I had a fair amount of water in my camelbak but paid dearly on the farlow descent. My bike decided it wasn't stoping until the first big log. We rolled, showed some style to a photographer and stopped for the first log. I dismounted and immediately did a double full-leg cramp. Calf, quad and hams-talk about standing at attention. Major "my bad" goes out to the team BMC rider. I couldn't move out of the way once the cramps hit. He was kind enough to share some of his Cliff Bar drink, which tasted like saltwater, but at that point in time it was exactly what i needed. My cramps stopped and I pointed the front wheel down and let er rip. Through most of the second rock garden we sped. Dismounted a few more times, not wanting additional permanent Farlow tatoos on my body. The too I have are enough - ones mental and the other is on my leg. I continued down and stayed with the fellow from BMC. He was obviously tired of my nervous, cramp induced chatter and sped through the harder sections like a pro. I caught him on a few of the medium hard sections and actually passed him while stepping over a log. Again I overstepped my boundaries and missed the log and stepped right on his pedal. I felt like a royal dork. I apoligized and sped on. Cramps returned full force and Mr. BMC passed me at the bottom of Daniel.
Finally FS 1206 was in sight. Only one climb remaining then a shot down Caney Bottom. I hit the turn to Caney with both legs slightly locking up. I'd gotten used to it. I hit the intersection on the FS road and remembered a great conversation i once had there. Pisgah has a way of holding memories like a picture album...you hit certain spots and the memories flood in.
After a few more agravating cramps and a fun blast to the bottom, i smelled Shrimpers monster burgers and smelled the finish. It was a good day.
13th Baby!!!!!!!
Paradise by the dashboard light. We all relate curent nowledge to past experience. This blog entry follows suit. I once had a girlfriend from Nantucket. No. Stop! That's another story all together. I once had a girlfriend who would score poorly on Wayne Brady's sing the lyrics game show. We were listening to the radio or a cassette tape (remember those) and Meatloaf started wailing about mother nature and doing what you can and being barely 17 and being barely dressed (ah those moments!). Anyway, we were singing along and what i heard in her very non church-choir voice was just a few clicks to the left of ON. This girl could floor you with a soul wrenching version of STAND BY YOUR MAN, but Meatloaf, no. It was like Johnny Depp trying to sing King Tut or saying "I'm Gumby Damnit". It didn't work. I turned down the radio and kindly asked her what she was singing. "The words" she replied. Sweet Potato (i'll use this to protect her real name) knew of my ways and she hesiteted to repeat the lyrics she belted out at full blast. Finally, with expert provocation and probably a handful of jelly bellies I convinced her to regirgitate her original lyrics. She distinctly sang "a pair of dice by the dashboard light".
Right then and there I think I peed. I felt a tear trickle down Meatloaf's cheek, just like the Native American in that oh so great PSA for littering. She felt the song, it's gutteral representation of youth and love. She sang it loud and with pure heart but it was just a little off. Intent was there but it wasn't STAND BY YOUR MAN. That's how it was with my SWANK attempt.
Mile 16, cramps. Miles 17 - 40, cramps. Bad nutrution, probably. Prior Thursday night wheat beer fest at West 1st Pizza, probbably. What ever it was, I was a few clicks off of ON. I've raced a few of Todd's races and have been graced by his riding skills (as noted in prior blogs). It's all been rewarding but painful. This race fit the bill.
Earlier I spoke with Cissy about race strategy including the importance of not blowing up in the first 30minutes of a 4-5 hour race. She didn't need race strategy as evidenced by her 4th place finish. I should have taken my own advice. Needing to stay out of the mid-rear pack riff raff, I tried to stay towards the front. It felt great but I was not recovering very well. After an hour or so of back pain, breething hard and general pain, I stopped to leave my scent on the trail via recycled heed and H20. It's amazing what emptying your bladder will do for ya! After my two minute pitstop things improved.
A good groove finally found my legs and I pumped on. Coming back down FS 5003 to the 2nd rest stop, I found a cheering crowd in the name of the Kahne family! What a help that was - to have Shrimper, Bergan and Henry all yelling for me. I was revived and opted to not stop for fluids. I had a fair amount of water in my camelbak but paid dearly on the farlow descent. My bike decided it wasn't stoping until the first big log. We rolled, showed some style to a photographer and stopped for the first log. I dismounted and immediately did a double full-leg cramp. Calf, quad and hams-talk about standing at attention. Major "my bad" goes out to the team BMC rider. I couldn't move out of the way once the cramps hit. He was kind enough to share some of his Cliff Bar drink, which tasted like saltwater, but at that point in time it was exactly what i needed. My cramps stopped and I pointed the front wheel down and let er rip. Through most of the second rock garden we sped. Dismounted a few more times, not wanting additional permanent Farlow tatoos on my body. The too I have are enough - ones mental and the other is on my leg. I continued down and stayed with the fellow from BMC. He was obviously tired of my nervous, cramp induced chatter and sped through the harder sections like a pro. I caught him on a few of the medium hard sections and actually passed him while stepping over a log. Again I overstepped my boundaries and missed the log and stepped right on his pedal. I felt like a royal dork. I apoligized and sped on. Cramps returned full force and Mr. BMC passed me at the bottom of Daniel.
Finally FS 1206 was in sight. Only one climb remaining then a shot down Caney Bottom. I hit the turn to Caney with both legs slightly locking up. I'd gotten used to it. I hit the intersection on the FS road and remembered a great conversation i once had there. Pisgah has a way of holding memories like a picture album...you hit certain spots and the memories flood in.
After a few more agravating cramps and a fun blast to the bottom, i smelled Shrimpers monster burgers and smelled the finish. It was a good day.
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