Saturday, August 3

Live From (The Road To) Leadville

We're making pretty good time across the fat spare tire of America.  I consumed my daily allotment of saturated fat at a roadside burger stand.  That was a silly thing to do.  Nothing but rabbit racing food from here on out.  I hear if you eat fast animals you become faster.

My own spare tire is the bane of my existence.  It's pathetic that I couldn't be motivated to drop 20 pounds for the big race.  Maybe for the Iron Horse...

Without sikowanulizing myself too much I'm really bad at making dietary choices due to an overdeveloped sense of impulsion.  I think this is because as a young child I felt deprived because there wasn't a Ronald McDonald house on every other block.

Our road talk led to the discussion of KFC's addition of boneless original recipe chicken pieces to their fleet.  I think if I were in charge of evolution we'd already have "naturally" selected boneless chickens.
Illinoising: Our speed limit is 65 miles per hour, get over it

Somewhere in the heartland one of the kids decided they didn't want the chocolate milk box they'd opened.  The chocolate milk got dumped out the car window.  Now my bike (suffering the indignity of being hauled by trunk rack on the car) is coated sticky in chocolate milk.  This is not a problem.  In fact, it's genius.  During the race,  when I feel the onset of a bonk, I can just start licking my frame for some quick calories.

In my textular update to Mozhican central I was informed by Jeff that we shouldn't have wasted the chocolate milk.  His kids are currently starving because Jeff's cover as a cabinet maker has been blown and he's no longer gainfully employed by those that wanted to see me fail in Leadville IN ONE WEEK.

I assured him we will clean out all the aid stations and take Jeff's kids some gels. Poor little duffers have been surviving on bark beetles.  I hadnt known this, but Jeff rides along the backroads of the county looking for discarded fast food bags. 

While I discover that other cyclists have been in the area by perusing Strava, Jeff usually knows by the discarded gel packets and the occasional half-eaten banana in the middle of the road he finds while training to try and crush me in a non-Strava kind of way.

Back in the Land of MoDOT

I did an interview with some of the Pavement's Edge racing crew.  What follows is a transcript of those interviews:

Pavement's Edge: Here we are live on the road to Leadville.  I'm here with the Pavement's Edge race crew.  First we go to Boone.  Boone, what kind of chances do you give dad this year of finishing the Leadville 100?

Crew Son: Mom told me not to say anything, but you better finish.

PE: Uh...

[Son giggles]

PE:   Now we go to Lily.  Lily,  could you give your prediction for dad's finishing time in this year's Leadville 100?

Crew Daughter: Twelve.

PE: Twelve hours?

[Daughter nods head]

PE:  Not less?  You know dad wants to finish in less than twelve hours.

[Daughter shakes head]

Hardy har har.  I don't think it would hurt my feelings on bit to have to sacrifice one of them to MoDOT for safe passage.  We even have a second one for the trip home.

If MoDOT (MoDOT Cares) accepts our sacrifice we should get into Colorado sometime before tomorrow.  It's too odd to be driving west for a vacation.  The drive home is gonna suck...except that I'll have that nice shiny buckle to caress for 20 hours.

1 comment:

  1. Good luck at Leadville. However, I groan on having to see another 'MODOT CARES' sign. :)