Pizza legs

Ok, if you are here to get one of those "look at me" "I love myself" race report recap crap, you are in the wrong blog-o-sphere.  I raced my bike really fast along with my teammates.  We had a great time and if you want to hear about it keep reading, if you are looking for turn by turn directions of the racing go somewhere else, or hang around after a group ride and bring a cooler full of man sodas.

So there I was, monkey fist firmly squeezing my medulla oblongata and a demon in full control of my upper and lower GI tract.  Staring down a 40min crit that was about four hours away.  How did I get here and why do I do this to myself?  Why?...the F word...Fun.  Yeah, it's all about the fun, and I am not the only one who likes to have fun.  We have several instigators and propagators of hilarity and hijinx.  Put all that in tight quarters, mix in some adult beverages a bike race or two and you have the recipe for one heck of a hangover.

Roadtrips are fun, seriously they are fun.  You have to be in the right company and you have to have the right combo of activities and geography.  Sometimes you have to look for the fun, but most of the time it will find you, just open your eyes and it will be all around you.  Crazy lives everywhere, I've seen it...I've done it.  Rule #1 only stop at truckstops, truckstops are like the seaports of the old world, you never know what you will find.  Treasures lurk in the shadows -take a camera, for proof of what you have seen.

The best part of the weekend was the people, should I say friends, family, teammates?  Yes, yes, and yes.  I have the great privilege to know and cavort with some of the most incredible friends/family.  In the last three years that I have been part of this crazy thing we call a cycling team, I have had some of the best memories off the bike with these cats.  I have friendships that have been forged through pain and suffering but polished with togetherness.  I'm not going to name any names -to protect the innocent- but we won a race had some podiums and that was all we needed to get the homebrews flowing and the google maps looking for a brewpub.  Several hours later an inflatable phallus, the bachelorette party and one of Wichita's finest that we swore was a male entertainer.  Oh, yeah it just happens to us.  If we had not left when we did, I am afraid that some dance moves would have been displayed, with minimal skill -but displayed nonetheless.

So that brings me back to the Sunday morning hangover minus the tattoo or missing tooth.  The only issue I had was, "why do I do this"?  I'm pretty sure I have a problem, my problem is that I have Rock Star ambitions and a Boyscout tolerance.  And that whole deal of having to race a crit in a parkinglot?  I mean really?  My body feels like I was part of a medical experiment at KU and me and solid food are not friends.  Did I mention it is as hot as the surface of the sun?  Yeah, I love roadtrips and bike racing.  Am I serious about it?  What do you think?  I'm serious about having fun.