Shattered, smothered, and covered

My legs are toast. King and Kong have called in sick today. Big respect to M&M for the great ride Friday, same to Powder, thanks for the huge pull on Piedmont *
S’quatch, Hi-tops, and Powder finished the job yesterday at an epic Munson outing.

Razorback kicked my ass, that has been well established by now. Instead of going back to that, I am choosing to move forward. If you have questions concerning this abomination of a trail, just holler. I for one, think it was designed by a man who seeks vengeance on all mountain bikers for some unspeakable crime committed by one of our brood. Of course, there is also strong support for the theory that I might just be a “Big Pussy”.

The silver lining for this wayward tale is how Razorback affects my riding on the local level, here in the Capital City. Its kind of like surviving a prison riot only to come home and have the local deputies threaten to “rough you up”. I am just soooo not impressed. Obstacles that once intimidated me, now look small, even friendly. The fear of falling is minimized, because the ground seems so close around here.

Razorback was like a one-night stand that helped me get over an ex, and now I can move on to new horizons.

So thanks Razorback, but baby– don’t bother calling, its over.

*21+ into a 15 knot headwind.

4 Responses to Shattered, smothered, and covered

  1. Juanchoroni,

    That was a pretty scary run you put together there for a good long while yesterday. Powder was off like a rabbit and the ghosts of those paper cups were rattling in his wake. And yet, there was no denying the merciless machine-gun ratcheting of your shifters workin it behind him long after he expected to be riding alone. The Blue Ox was galloping thunderously to keep up, and when I saw the way you charged that post-power lines Munson Rise, I was sure (and wrong!) that you’d die before we hit the crest. When we crossed back over the power lines with you in the lead and showing no sign of flagging I started writing my own eulogy. I even jotted a mental note to myself to drink more red wine.

    Then of course Powder, rattled by his inability to shake the slobbering pack (Hitops also representing big), pulls a stop at the 2nd bench! What was that, but a chance for him to collect his wits? Just like that, the spell was broken, along with the mighty Juancho. I KNEW you were kicking your own ass with that run. I was just praying you’d fall before the full 15 rounds had elapsed.

    Powder’s brief stop was a brilliant tactical move. That brief interlude gave your speed genie a second to receive the fax detailing just how many cigarrettes you’d smoked (since yesterday)and how much alcohol you’d consumed in the last week, and she took off for a more worthy soul in need. Powder’s world was righted, so he sped off to play with the greyhounds littering the trail that day.

    Then later, with unprecedented and unspeakable treachery, Powder actually calls my wife (from the trail!) to tell her he’d just dropped me so hard that he needed my cell # to reel me in. Damn! Is nothing sacred?!

  2. Yes, more turpentine and barbed wire will help you keep your edge, its like resistance training for your lungs and liver.

    I also agree that HT was laying it down hard yesterday.

  3. Good to see Powder back on his mount, and even better to see Juancho give him a run.

    Perfect ride from the caboose’s perspective. Not too many miles, and no time spent on my back wondering what the f just happened as the Dakar gives Papa the full body slam. Good to keep the pack in sight — aided by the recent prescribed burn. I never actually reached the “awareness expands” stage of being dropped. Manute and Yao (apologies to K and K) are none the worse for wear, and ready for some longcourt tomorrow.

    I even saw some virginal Munson landscape (at least for me). But that’s enough of the storied Sandhills for now. I’m ready for a change of scenery. Perhaps a spot without soot. Any place but Redbug. Or Tom Brown.