Unapologetic and Narcissistic Rage-The Sequel

I get ugly this time of year.

Ride your Madone like a pussy in the Kettles and I squash you like a bug when we hit the hills. The look of horror on a man's face when he sees 29 X 2.1's ride by him like he is standing still should be a MasterCard commercial. The only reason you caught me on the down slope is because I spun out at 32 X 11. Hell, anyone can descend.

Today was Heaven (or Hell in my case). The music was cranking in the ears, but I do not remember a note. The focus was on the race and it was playing over and over in this simple mind. What does this mean?

It's back for 2010: Unapologetic and Narcissistic Rage.

And Now for Something Completely Different

A chapter comes to a close, a season to an end, the end of the book. The 2010 bike karma was over, even before it got started.

So, boys and girls, Chequamegon is my swan song.

2011 will be something different:

• Duathlons? Maybe..but yet another bike?
• Triathlons? Fuck water.
• Marathon? Possibly. Shoes are cheap, but surgery has many more costs.

Besides, I have a kick ass fishing boat that has not seen water in 2.5 years and I am long overdue to my friends for weekends of nothing but fish guts, fermented/distilled beverages and Phipps's memories that can last a lifetime.

Conclusion: Time for new life challenges. It has been a great fucking ride.

Gallus Gallus Domesticus Do Do, Part II

One and done.

Half way through my Saturday AM death ride, the decision was made. It's the kiddy race. Gary got the email 15 minutes after I dismounted my bike.

Other life endeavours require more of my time and properly training for a 40 mile Bataan Death March no longer works into the schedule. The big boy's race demand a minimum of 12 bike hours a week and I have other murders to commit priorities.