Aug 14, 2002

Suffering Heat Exhaustion, Rosie & Sheryl Crow
It doesn't get much worse than that

Stick a Fork In Me...
Six hours and 60 miles into the Team Big Bear 12-Hours of Snow Summit and I was cooked. The 30-or so solo class idiots (Titanium, Team Big Bear calls us) took off at 7:30 Saturday morning to embark on a dozen hours of high-altitude racing on a ten-mile course that traveled (are your ready for this?) to the summit of Snow Summit. Each fun-filled lap started at lodge level, went up Fern Trail to 2N10, right onto Pirates of the Caribbean, back on to 2N10 and up to the View House before heading down trails like Ole' National Hike-a-bike and Towne Trail and then back to the parking lot for anothe lap. And another and another.
I took only six trips to the top of the mountain before breaking down in a pile of my own dehydrated, saltless, sweatless self. To make a long story somewhat shorter (six hours exactly), I went out too fast and too hard, trying to keep pace with three other crazies in front of me that did the same. One of them was able to keep the pace up, posting an amazing 12 laps before it was all said and done. Normally, I'd like to shake the hand of a man like that, but since it was him that helped do me in, I'll pass.
Chalk the entire miserable experience up to not hydrating and sleeping enough the week prior, not pacing myself and not allowing myself enough time off work to prepare before hand. I won't go into detail about who won the two-man or four-man divisions and who was present because I don't remember it too clearly. It was like having a concusion and a hangover at the same time.
I would like to thank Denise, my Dad and Rob Bock for coming up to support me in the 95-degree heat. Also thanks to Aaron Gerth for preparing my bikes. Ultimately they probably saved my life because I was convinced that resting from about 1:30 PM to 3:30 PM would be enough for me to get back on the bike and post a respectable finish. Based on my slurred speach, goose bumps and the fact that I was curled up in the fetal position, they convinced me that I was done. And so did the medic, who kind of (just a tad) reminded me of the school bus driver on South Park. Or maybe I was delirious.

The Hypocrisy Contiunes
This Advertising Age magazine article from the July 2002 issue speaks for itself:

"...five years ago, when its Scope brand [mouth wash] named talk-show host Rosie O'Donnell to a list of the 10-least-kiss-able celebrities. Ms. O'Donnell later launched a "just say nope to Scope" campaign and urged viewers to buy rival Listerine. With some wooing - including a $2 million donation on behalf of P & G Pantene brand [Scope's parent company] to Ms. O'Donnell's foundation for children - Ms. O'Donnell later endorsed White Strips [a P & G Pantene Product]."

I wonder - what if the National Rifle Association made a similar donation? I bet Rosie would be singing the praises of Winchester, Smith & Wesson, Tom Selleck & President Chuck Heston then. Hmm...

She Likes a Good Beer Buzz Early in the Morning
What else does she sing?

When all of a sudden did Sheryl Crow gain legendary star status? She's been a recognizable solo act for approximately six years and her credentials are good enough to headline for opening act Fleetwood Mac (or what's left of them). I've never been a fan of Sheryl Crow, who walks around like she's been part of the Hollywood elite since Dean Martin. My most recent problem with her regards her latest single, "Steve McQueen." She's obviously not much for detail when writing lyrics because the chorus reads, "Like Steve McQueen, all I need's a fast machine..."
Sorry Sheryl, but in addition to a fast machine, the Steve McQueen I'm familiar with needed a bottle of bourbon, some dope, the Bible and at least two lady friends. Hmm...

91 Freeway Report
Yesterday "World's Greatest Dad" cut me off.
And later on I saw a woman driving a Honda hybrid flick a cigarette out her window. I found that mildly ironic.

"I like to crush their egos." - Bobby Fischer, age 10, chess master

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