Testing...testing...1...2...3...

Mobil blogg test. Seeing if I can still make updates on the road.

July 4th Century = 1...2...3 Flats...

…or 5 if you count the two flat legs I brought to the ride. On the top 5 list of worst rides all time for me. The mix of rain, sweat, and road grime was stinging my eyes. I managed to succumb to the elements with not 1, nor 2, but 3 flats. Forgot to eat, bonked hard, and struggled to stay upright around the aero bar using tri-geeks in the pack. Mucho fun!

Oh well, I’m off to the Alps Saturday for a 2+ week vacation of bliss. With any luck I’ll get a good look at a certain rider from Austin, climb Mount Ventou, and sample some old world grape juice. Am I ready…I’m vibrating!!!

TTT is tonight. Take it to em LA!

She lost me at Pearl Neckless

EB

Lost Sheep or Lost Sleep...

I haven't lost any "sheep," but I have lost out on some "sleep," this weekend. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have shoehorned in one more minute of fun in the past 36+ hours.

Its started early enough on Sat, with a 6:00 AM roll call at Bean's homestead for a few trips around COSMO, to be followed up with some gravel and KT to end the day. B is for Bolton joined in to make three. The trail was perfection, one loop each direction. I was on a strict time schedule and had marching orders from upper management to be home by 10:00 or she slit my tires and cut my derailuer cables. We hit the KT near Rocheport at about 9:05, and with a 25 min drive facing me from Nate's, I knew the clock was ticking. TT mode it was. I felt like I was laying it down pretty good, from the heavy breathing coming from the pair grabbing my w Roachport heel. I'm convienced that if my wife was standing at the finish tapping her foot and watching the clock, I'd be winning everything and have a Pro deal of some sort.

Sat concluded with a trip down the Osage River with some of Cathy's friends on their party barge. At one point I counted 10 boats tided up to ours all floating along in a sea of Natural Lite filled bellies. Cole county seems to go with the "Fat guy, skinny wife" mantra though, so at least the scenery was something to look at. Even saw a convicted felon on one boat supporting a ankle bracelet that would radio authorities if his 5 DWI having butt had the siltiest bit of alcohol. Weird.

Sunday was a 7:00 dance on slick trails and wooden bridges with Double Barrel, Beans, D-Lite, Evenslower, and B is for Bolton. Take not BOCOMO fat tire friends... the algae covered wooden bridges are slicker than snot on a doorknob after a rain this year. I almost waded it up in a spectacular fashion worthy of any highlight film, while crossing Ganes Creek at Rock Bridge. Beans and DB both hit the deck on another crossing. Come to think of it, thats the first time I've seen Beans go wheels up. Hummm...

I rounded out the weekend with the Brother and Sister in Law, Mother in Law and the 2 nieces at the pool and a trip to Flat Branch for grub. I'm totally wiped. Time for some much needed stretching and R&R.

And yes the Lost Sheep post goes out to a certain red haired CBC rider who shears sheep as a pre race opener. Chris Carmichael recommended this to me once...

Wingheaven

Road racing for me is about as easy as nailing Jell-O to a wall. So going into Wingheaven with suspect form, temps in the 90’s, a combined 2-3 field, and what was sure to be stiff competition, I was a bit worried. I was committed to going though, almost as much to see some of my teammates and watch the Pro race as anything, and loaded up the Mazda for a trip to STL.

Warm up went well, and I lined up in the middle of 90+ hungry riders. The first two laps were agonizing. I wasn’t have much trouble hanging on to the pack, but again it felt like I was riding with one lung. By the middle of the race, I started to come around and feel like racing. For me the funniest part of the day happened right out of the gate, when I look to my right to find Happy Jose B wobbling beside me pedaling squares and knocking about. How does this guy always find me in a pack???

With one to go I had some gas left but the pack was big, and slowing, so the probability of a pileup in the downhill left was high. I opted to call it a day, realizing my strengths in the sprint, and the need to be free of broken bones going into July, and coasted in at the back of the group.

4 Weeks...

...and I'll be riding the schweet serpentine grander that is Southern France. This will be my first International Cycling trip, and first ever 2 week vacation. To say I'm excited, is an understatement. I'm already packing, and I mutter around the house till the wee hours not knowing wether to scratch my watch or wind my butt. I've got to pack 2+ weeks worth of gear into one 50 lb bag. This should be easy, but in the past DoubleD and I have filled the Mazda 3 to the brim for just a 5 day trip.

Rolled out for pretty mellow 3 hour stint through Northern BOCOMO today with like minded two wheelers. Although it looked like rain, we stayed dry. What never fails to amaze me, is the complete lack of silence a BOCOMO group ride has. Never a dull moment on the rolling sitcom that is a early morning CycleX ride.

A couple sandwiches short of a picnic...

Even when you have a bad day, MTB racing is still more fun than a clown on fire. Walking into the 10th annual Rett's Run Race this weekend I knew my form was going to be off a bit, but by how much. If you've been racing long enough, you can almost tell from the first pedal stroke of the day, how things are going to shake down, and today I could tell, my form was lower than a ducks butt.

My race went well enough considering my prep, so I cant complain. I got out to a good start only to find my heart rate pegged to pre-pubescent levels, my head spinning, and my bike handling suffering big time. The course was slicker than snot on a doorknob. Ploch was witness to a nice two wheel drift into a tall oak that I was lucky to pull off, that had me contemplating my predicament. I really wanted to rock the house on my home court, and at least stay ahead of BH (who was on my borrowed bike) but continuing at the present pace would probably result in me on a stretcher. So I dialed it back, and then some more, and then yet even more, until I could see straight out of my newly LASIK'd eyes. At one point I thought, "I'm going so slow, I'm going to have to speed up to stop!"

The rest was somewhat uneventful. I saw BH on the ground once. Caught a glimpse of DoubleD in my rearview (this sparked my motivation, as I couldn't have my older and wiser cousin make up the stager on me, oh the humility) Some dude tried to take down Wes B in one of the craziest passes I've ever seen on an MTB. And I almost ran over a lapper on number 4.

So even though my picnic came up short, it was still a blast.

Shout out to Evenslower's kids who took the prize for the cutest pit crew. And Doug Stone, who's making the transition from throttle twister, to mountain bike slayer quite nicely.