I have no self control

So I'll admit it. I don't know how to suffer anymore. I've made some good choices along the way. But then we were sort of out of food. No big deal, make my self a sandwich. Get to work, put it it the fridge. Forget that it's there, OR maybe I make myself forget it's there because I don't want anther crappy turkey sandwich. I roll to Publix because I love it there. As I make my way to the salad cooler, I'm mesmerized by the rhythmic sound of spatulas on the grille top. I snap my head to see dude working up a Philly. Damn, in one short sigh I knew I'd be cheating. I wanted it even more because dude was taking forever after I ordered mine. I was trying to act all cool looking for a place to stand and ended up pacing back and forth. Finally it's wrapped and I'm off. Ate half of it in the parking lot. Ate a quarter of it driving back to work. Feeling pretty crappy now, but not bad enough to throw away this Hersey bar.

Loser

Holla back ya'll!

Feeling a little tired? Drink a 180. Anybody out there thirsty? As we near the mid way point of the year, it's time we put together a report for our sponsors, small and large. I need to get some images for the report/video. I'll be circulating a few thumb drives to get video and picture files from all you BC crewers. Unless you can burn them to a disk. Anyway, let me know if you can help me out...

Dragon

slice like a ninja, cut like a razor blade

In a last ditch effort to rebuild myself I have exiled to Siberia. I'm more like a lurker until July 4. I've realized I've got to do what I do to make myself happy. There's a dichotomy here. I am happy eating whatachickin's with mustard, onions and jalapenos. I'm happy pounding Cokes and Extreme Sour Patch Kids. But... I'm not happy with the subsequent Incredibly Fat Hulk body. I'm healthy but I'm not healthy. For the first time in a long time this is more about the end result than it is about the gauntlet. Besides Ric and Mark are in the stratosphere, Jim and Tim are not too far behind, Neck is caterwauling, Ken has old school hand, Five-O rides like 200 miles a week, Steve likes waxing that ass (same with the rest of the BC crew like Zak, Berg, Micro, Lt. Dan and so on...) and the Worm, well the Worm will never race again after the Georgia series . No longer does Clark Kent have an evil nemesis. No longer does the Red Dragon need to make claims of this and that. This is me alone on a frozen tundra working it out. No promises but I hope to come back healthier.

K Dub

Less talking, more doing

BUMP Report

I was hoping that one of our more “colorful” characters would give you a race report. I guess you’ll have to settle for my poorly written chain of events.

Another BUMP and Grind is in the books. This was my third installment. Last year’s BUMP was my first race back in about 9 years (I was on hiatus). Couldn’t have gone much better at that time. This year was a much different story as I “BUMPed” up to Sport class.

Bikechain/bikeposse brought a large contingent to Pelham (a/k/a Birmingham). Big Worm; Spanish Mackerel; Red Dragon; Longshanks; Derwood; Silk; Mingo, including Mingo Jr.; and 007 all made the trip.

My truck consisted of BW; SM; and RD. AC/DC may have may have sang it but I got to live it (highway to hell). RD and SM in the back seat of a vehicle must be what it’s like to have two misbehaved 7 year old children. My head is still ringing from all the goings on. Also, the truck still has a strange odor about it. May take some time to air out.

The true BUMP experience began when my truck pulled into the parking lot to see 007 in a cute little skirt. You see 007 lost a bet at last year’s BUMP and was settling up. You got to give the guy his props. I’m pretty sure I would have reneged on that bet. So we gear up and head out for the preride. Nothing like a little 16 mile ride to get the legs feeling fresh for a race the next morning (joke).

Next stop, bike shop so BW can hunt for a XXXXXLLLL size jersey he eyed on the trail earlier in the day. No such luck as apparently only scrawny ass people buy from that bike shop (discrimination). Hotel for a quick shower; Olive Garden for a good meal, then back to the hotel for very little sleep. Who here knew RD could make trumpet sounds from his ass at 4:00 in the morning (me either…until now).

Sunday rolls around and I am a mess. This is not unusual for me on race day, but this day topped them all. When we lined up it took all I had to hold the bike upright. It was not looking good for me. In the woods almost dead last. Took a while for me to settle down and get in a good rhythm. Unfortunately, I found myself content in my placing which explains my poor 15th place finish. Oh well, hopefully another lesson learned.

Silk did his normal thing, won…Tim did his thing…podium…Berg had a very respectable 5th place…Mingo appeared to have rode well. The rest of the guys can comment on their own race.

That’s it for now. Oh, except for BW and SM trying to wreck us on I-10 in sight of home. But that’s another story.

My neck... my back, my silky smooth crack

So there was a time when I was doing bike trials in Big Tony and Jaysun's backyard - which happened to be owned by Ken at the time. It was great. Brent and I would go over there with a couple of 40s and try to ride through the maze of skinny boards, tall wooden spools and other hateful obstacles. The maze wove in and out of trees and pretty much covered the yard. With the beer flowing, industrial work lights on and music blaring, it was a recipe for oneupmanship. I bet you cant do this, I bet you want do that - you get the drill. So we'd ride for hours with brakes chattering from the roofing tar on our rims (awesome braking power). I loved it. Then one night something clicked - in a bad way. In my early to mid 20s, I found myself barely able to walk and having to go to a series of doctors just to be able to sleep, let alone walk. I've never been cut on but I know that type of pain. That's because I am very familiar with it. It took four of five times of this type of episode for me to give up trials. That still bums me out. This pain is exacerbated by my neck. Trying to keep up with my brothers in high school, I jacked my neck up bench pressing way to much weight. I feel that every day.

But... Spanish mackerel will tell you I'm full of shit. Anybody that has these types of pains will tell you "it only hurts when I do this". I can remember being on the shop floor with a full bag of party ice bellyaching during the day, then at night grinding on some chic on the beer garden dance floor at Bullwinkle's. I mean just working it. We were all tore up and Steve looked over and gave me the "I don't ever want to hear about your back again" speech. We all hurt. But Bump and Grind only happens once a year. Everybody is going this year and my brother is wearing a skirt - his punishment for the slowest lap time last year. He's wearing it in a bid to pass it off to me - the odds on favorite for slowest lap this year. Saturday night will not only feature good food and good times, it is when you pick up your time slot (you get to negotiate your time bonus). What I'm trying to say is get in the truck bitch. All together now - let's pile on HWB so that he makes the trip.

Dragon

Sunday Morning Ride on a Monday Afternoon

Well that was fun. Nice little ride on a Monday afternoon felt easy like a Sunday morning. Most of the fellas were there but some were missed. The worm and Big Jim were on stupid bikes. The rest of us were rollin on dualies. Chris neglected to tell everyone that he had to put in two hard hours. So when we got to the Fern, he pretty much hammered everybody. Chill on Goose Pond then hammer on both sections of Cadillac and the bucket loop. I hate him now and my legs hate him. It's weird how all the different personalities, ages, ride styles and fitness levels seemed to click. It was a very cool ride.

Dragon