Winters road race

Winters CA, its 106 degrees, maybe "winter" is actually the best season to ride your bike in this quaint and cute scorching solar heat sink ghost of a town. Arrived with ambition, rode like a warrior, made the break with six of the best nor cal amateurs, Then after putting a minute and a half on the field, my body shut down and melted like ice cream on a pile of steaming dog shit.

I was lucky because the stink of my withered and collapsed piss poor performance eventually reached my teammate chris turner who in turn, with inflamed nostrils, ripped a set of quadriceps out of his shorts and crushed the field like rotten worm infested tomatoes.

Turner took 5th

On a positive slightly vulgar note, I have reached a landmark in my progression as a cyclist this season. For perhaps the first time I raced aggressive while still managing to leave my junk in the trunk. No need to throw it all out on the table. You've seen this act before, its become a second rate dime a dozen showing for the masses. Usually I race as if it, (it being my junk), grew 2 inches a week, and I felt the need to share and compare it with everyone, well, not this time........maybe next season, when I'm slapping you all in the face.

For anyone confused by my Metaphors , I'm saying that I didn't burn all my matches in one big bang........and then hang on for sloppy seconds like I usually do.....I raced as aggressive as I needed without wasting energy and I made a smart tactical move with all the right players. Then my body said "no..........I don't want to...........Its time for the onset of heat exhaustion, dizziness, lack of power, and a slight chilling in the face of an ambient air temp of 106 degrees."

Its the end of the season. I'm not racing well. I'm tired. I've raced my heart out and drug my junk all over ca, and the western states since Feb.............These are not excuses they are facts and while being physically spanked I'm burn'n up a fire and getting ready to start putting miles in the pain bank for next season. In conclusion I've come the sad realization that my junk doesn't quite measure up. Not yet anyways, but I think the potential just needs to be realized...see you all next February............I would suggest wearing a face mask next season........to avoid being slapped by any flailing appendages.

Until then Ciao.......Oh I almost forgot.......a picture. this one has nothing to do with this post...its me rolling through the finish line after doing a days worth of work to set chris johnson up in the field sprint for 5th place. We conveniently missed the break which contained ned overend on a 13lb bike and a bunch of paid athletes from the Kelly benifit team.

empty promises

Hey all..........thought I'd share a little introspective piece, here it is............... I want to make it clear that my favorite activity as of late is sitting and starring at the wall. It can be quite soothing meandering in an out of the lumpy labyrinth of latex paint and drywall spackel. Between the seams of sheet rock and joint tape my Synapses fire like lead out of a sinking barrel of goat shit. At my current capacity brain activity is as inactive as a post ejaculatory, overweight, 28 year old punk Nintendo playing male with emphysema and high blood pressure. I can't even imagine the person described above ejaculating in the first place, nor do I want to. The simple thought of aerobic activity could send such a person into cardiac arrest or cause a catastrophic explosion of their carotid artery. And the smell.......? The putrid stank of over crisped and scorched partially hydrogenated tempura, that's my brain silly, and I'm drowning in it. A sad state of being if i might say so myself. I think I may have a mild case of dementia ............and if people were concerned of my well being than they should bring me lots of beer, cookies, Pete's coffee, and Kombucha.........or send me to the coo.koo..house!

I will be dragging my melting carcass through the rest of the season and after about 4 more races I promise to get back on the blog wagon......As of late, creativity has been elusive similar to my motivation. The motivation scale in this case is predominantly leaning towards a bottle (Uh? six pack) of beer and a bag of kettle korn, a jar of peanut butter, some chocolate chips, coffee, pizza, and everything bad for me. A vision quest and a cleanse are in order for the off season.

I'll keep you updated, until then............This is my pet chicken. Behind her is the rooster. He's a real cock.