Wednesday, September 24, 2008


Sick and injured I limped into the shop lot this afternoon praying Brian and Mike were going to be no shows, but my cries and pleas fell on deaf ears. Not only were they both there, but Drew was too, of course he always shows up. And not only was Drew there, but none of the other “buffer” riders were there, the guys who can keep up, but kind of hang back and make sure I don’t get lost. Don’t get me wrong, I like riding with Brian and Mike, besides the fact that they can both ride me into the ground, and never hesitate to help me out when I need it, they are funny as hell to watch together. Mike won’t shut up, and he answers every question he throws at Brian before Brian can get his water bottle out of his mouth, then starts arguing with his own answer.

Now Drew is in the equation. He is fast, and only wants to go faster, every other word out his mouth is “race.” I think him and Mike are going to start a team or club. The way they were talking today it looks like I might get to drive the sag wagon for them in the next tour. Today Drew told me I gotta push myself if I want to get faster. Thanks for the juicy tidbit there Drew! He was sitting bolt upright, riding no handed, sucking on a water bottle. I smiled and nodded, I didn’t have the oxygen to explain that my heart rate was 186, about 97% of my max, and had been, for about 8 minutes. I hope I can keep up with him a little longer next season, his enthusiasm is contagious, and he’s just a fun guy to ride with.

Brian had some sort of surgery recently, something to do with “scopic” and ulcers. It’s been a few years since I had to turn around when a Marine said “Doc” but I remember enough to know that is a cringe inducing vocabulary combo. Anyway, he started feeling it at the turn around and making all kinds of not so pleasing gastric noises and had to back off. He has pulled me all over the county this summer trying to teach me how to go faster, so I hung back, although I tried to maintain a safe distance, somewhere inside the green zone of conversation but outside of the red zone of projectile vomiting. Between the cold I caught, my inability to turn to the left (It is an old CX injury, see previous post) I was glad for the rest, the company, and for someone to yell “Clear left” for me at the intersections. I hope he was actually checking.

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