My family had a bit of a medical emergency over the weekend. It kept my mind on things other than my "training regimen", so it was easy to justify eating garbage until things got sorted out. I haven't suffered any serious setbacks. I'm a couple pounds over my lowest weight from last week, but nothing serious. I have also been hit and miss with my workouts so all things considered I'm doing okay.
As always I face tomorrow with a new resolve. I have to, the Crusher is coming.
Ah, The Crusher. It has consumed my thoughts since Monday when I registered. I misjudged the popularity of the race. I fully expected it to sell out the first day. It didn't. But it was fun to act like I was battling for a spot. As I commented to Cobourn while we were waiting for registration to open, "...if there are only like twelve dudes that sign up tonight, we're totally gay." As it stands just under 100 brave souls have signed up. Not quite making us gay, but certainly bringing our heterosexuality into question.
To be clear, I do not fear being able to complete the race. And I'm not terribly concerned about not making the time cutoffs. Nor am I overly concerned about winning. Competitiveness has never been my most outstanding feature. But I do want to have an above average showing. Top half of the pack I should hope. And in my estimation I've got a way to go to achieve that.
And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:
Now that I am about to complete my 35th year. I'm not sure that I qualify as either an old man, or a young man. So perhaps the dream I had last night is neither a dream nor a vision.
Anyway, I will try my best to explain it as I understood it.
I was riding with some sort of club. On the road. The ride eventually became several of us in a room talking, and then became just me and the leader of the group talking over a desk, as you would at a job interview. He was telling me that if I was going to be a serious racer, I would have to quit my day job. (Not a terrible prospect though I was concerned at how I was going to make this transition and not lose my house.) He kept telling me that I would have to ride more than I had been. I kept saying "Yeah, that's fine, I can do that" But was genuinely concerned about how to pay the bills while I was becoming a serious racer.
Then it got weird. The leader of the group became Lance Armstrong. And we were no longer in an office, but a limo. This for some reason seemed perfectly logical. So now, Armstrong and I were chatting about bikes, and about racing, though we were no longer talking about me racing. I was no longer in a job interview, but discussing becoming part of Armstrong's entourage. He was telling me that he had "like two dozen dudes in his posse." I remember thinking what a douche he was for calling it his posse. The limo pulls up to a grand hotel. And we start trying on suits in the lobby. All the while, he's explaining to me that we all have to look good when we're around him. He speaks as though I have been accepted into "the posse", but it's sort of on a trial basis. I also determine that being in "The Posse" means that I no longer have to work. Armstrong keeps saying things like "We'll get your clothes fixed up, and then you just have to ride more." and "The only thing you have to do to stay here is to ride more." I never meet any other members of "The Posse". I begin to suspect that I am really the only member of "The Posse" due to Armstrong being kind of a douche. I ask him if he would like to go for a ride with me now. He says "I don't ever ride with you guys, but you should definitely go for a ride, you need to ride more."
Then my alarm goes off. Besides the obvious similarities to my friendship with Cobourn, what do you think this all means?
Morning Weigh In:
- Total Weight Loss:22.2