I’m getting good at jacking other people’s images, so why start photo-documenting these trips now? And besides, I don’t think my camera has a strong enough strobe to light the haunted Mount Snow trails. Under a canopy of trees, the race course was cut through slippery, root and rock invested mud that made wearing sun glasses and using your front brake a life hazard. So, let’s say for example the course was marked with street signs instead of ribbon, stakes, arrows, broken bodies & damaged bikes. Here’s what they’d likely be:
They could have used one of these signs every 20 feet. I guess it was a mountain bike race...
The universl sign for, "That's gonna leave a mark," Tom and Frosty could have put one of these at the top of every decsent. Mount Snow is definately not a spectator course for innocent ears.
The Play-by Play
I raced the single-speed with hopes of finishing on the box. Not fifth, not fourth – but on the actual box. Let’s just say the cog I chose allowed me to run as high as second place at one point and walk as low as 12th place at another point. That point being the finish line. But at least I didn’t have to do any dishes.
Meanwhile, on the Home Front
Ryder could be the next Michael Phelps, sans the DUI.
Ryder loves to swim and with assistance from his floaties, he gets around the pool pretty well especially for a 2-year old.
He and Denise went to Austin to visit friends and family this weekend, so I’m bach’n it, as they say. Actually, I feel more like Bridget Jones, because instead of tapping a keg, so far all I’ve done is watch TV and over-indulge in Dreyer’s Slow Churn Ice Cream.
I wonder what Vino is doing right now?