Saturday night I ended up at the freaking waterfront. I lived the lifestyle of the middle class in debters by shopping on the weekend. I guess I can justify it by the fact that dinner was paid for by a gift card that Amy won on a radio station sweep stake. The shopping was done with credit from the "dead guy's house"....
So the "shopping" was all free. ORGANIC COTTON TOWELS!!!
Anyway, shopping is Amy dropping me off at the bookstore and her getting the stuff. I was reading "ultra endurance cycle training" or something, and sure enough on the 2nd page, there is a whole paragraph about the Chew man. I called him from the bookstore and read it to him. He thought I was making it up. Hilarious. Then there was an amazing photo of him midway though RAAM where he looks like a zombie. Sweet.
BIKE STUFF
Jared DOUBLE FLATTED after hitting the gnarliest pothole ever Saturday. The road was a pond, and he just happened to hit the bad spot. Right when we are standing there admiring the mess, BURT FREAKIN HOOVIS drives by in what I can only guess is his wife's caravan and calls us a foul name. It takes a very confident or insecure man to insult cyclists while driving a caravan. I mean a caravan.. come on.
My options for Sunday were:
-Short and fast 50 minute 10,000 dollar crit that went well for Pittsburghers.
Or
-Long and slow road ride with some great guys, lead by Chew.
I took the long route. The books I read say that you should do a long ride or two the time of your longest event. I was about 20 minutes shy of the 8 hour mark. 115 miles into Greene County and back. Fixed Gear. No power data available, sorry Tard-ina.
1 comment:
It was a Mercury villager...get it straight.
And although you guys are definitely studs, seeing you standing there on the side of Butler street all soppy wet and miserable convinced me that my decision to ride the rollers instead of going out in the slush was the right one.
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