Since then it has been cold, rainy,snowy, and dismal. Took the shop ride down to Price on Saturday for Trailfest, but spent more time BSing then riding. Drove three hours round trip to ride for just under three hours and only cover 14 miles. It was nice and sunny though. So far this week has been terrible.
Not only has the weather sucked, but the gym has been closed for "Bubble Week". This is the week they take the bubble off the pool so they close the whole thing down. Each morning I have awakened to the sound of sheets of rain pounding on the roof so I rolled over and slept instead of doing any riding. Yes I own a trainer, and yes I refuse to ride it in May.
This morning, I woke up again startled from the dream I had been having. You'll remember that the last Crusher related dream I had featured Lance Armstrong telling me to ride more(and dress better). This time I was actually at what my brain pictured as the Crusher. A few changes. For some reason it was being held in American Fork Canyon, and had become a duathlon. I left my bike on the side of the road and began running up the Canyon. Amazingly, I was in second place. Cruising along. Then somebody came up and said something about their bike being staged at the Pine Hollow Trailhead for the second stage. I panicked because my bike was at the bottom. Then Burke Swindlehurst(the race director for the Crusher), whom I have never met outside of facebook was running next to me and I told him my bike didn't get staged. He turned around and "paused" the race. Amongst much grumbling, and moaning. We lined up again, while a vehicle went back for my bike. Once the vehicle passed us again, we resumed the run. Which was no longer on the road, but inside my mind's version of Brer Rabbit's Briar Patch. Breaking through branches, ducking under logs,(kind of like the trails in Price). When I finally made it out the other side I was in an unfamiliar residential neighborhood and had dropped to DFL in the race. Strangely, my bike was not the only one left in the staging area. Instead there was a humongous road bike with balloon tires. Struggling to reach the pedals, I set out for the bike leg. The remainder of the dream was me riding by myself, waiting for the broom wagon to pick me up. I never saw the back of the pack, and the broom wagon never picked me up. I just rode on, alone.
I may be letting this race get under my skin.
- Total Weight Loss:21.2