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There are things we do because when looking into the future they seem like a good idea to better ourselves. Or more than likely we are overcome with a sense of bravado. I cop to the latter and got myself and three buddies, Otto, Danny, and Matt into something which we may regret later. The Lyle Pearson 200. A road race of 200 miles, team time trial/relay format, with 21,000 feet of climbing. WTF? It was the error in judgement. Seriously, what the HELL was I thinking? But the registration was a bargain at a buck per mile for the team and we spend that on beer on a good Tuesday night anyways.
We have been through four teammates who all had the sense of valor when the Hamm’s were flowing in the man cave and the foosball was heating up. Since then I have learned who the thinkers and the blind followers in our magazine club are. Man I appreciate the blind right now. It’s a solid team if not for anything other than huge hearts and a buried pissed off streak that could bring something special out if I am not mistaken. We are chasing and being chased at five minute intervals by friends that we would be nothing short of ecstatic to pummel into little bits. But i think we have all been scared too shitless to talk any trash.
You can’t give up the dream though and at 8:29 a.m. on Saturday there is going to be a little test of personal will power.
Prediction?
Pain!
This is going to be about as close to a hot date with a pogo stick as you can imagine.
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oh, sorry, this is chopper’s race diary
chopper you crazy. meet for beers tonight in boise? as i laid in bed this morning, pondering skipping the whole day, i realized every person i knkow who did this last year, except for one, has opted not to do it again this year, even given the chance. i am putting on my scott aero bars circa 1993 , am loading up on chamois cream and copenhagen, and will let come what may come what may. see you tonight.