Alright Cleveland you broke me. It's still snowing. And I'm still drinking. Two worse things for my riding can scarcely be found. Amongst my friends, St. Patricks day is a national holiday, one discussed with greater jubilation and anticipation than say, Veteran's Day. Among our little foursome we have a great talent, sorry CD, we aren't discussing your dancing. We have a chef, a chef owner to be more precise, who spent two days in advance preparing our morning feast. This is, at my best measure, exactly 48 hours more than I spend preparing for Columbus Day.
By 9:00 am I was eating enough corned meat to give the Jarvis artificial heart a run for its deep pocketed pharmaceutical money. Thank god someone spoke up and reminded us that alcohol thins your blood. It was only 9:15 and somehow this logic was already bypassing security. We all started slow, a little coffee and Baileys, delivered in the new convenient stash in your purse size. Nothing says alcohol problem like purchasing single servings of coffee additive all wrapped up in five packs (one for everyday of the week). Nothing, that is, except ordering Guiness in teams of ten in the ante meridian. This was to set the bar for the rest of the day, most of which is not suitable for disclosure here. Edison's Pub provided the only two wheeled entertainment (the only thing it excels at anymore), and I was eventually ushered out of a bar at 2:30 am.Tuesday, survivors day, meant Steffens was in town, enjoying an underage breastless spring break in C-town. The Spin crew, roadies in tow, hit Ray's Indoor Mountain Bike Park for a little comradery, competition and crashing, actually performed in that order. The Spin rendition of The Most Dangerous Game involves a healthy crew of 12 of us racing 5 laps on a course that rarely gets more than 30" wide. The first attempt ended halfway through lap 1 as a multi sporter stacked it over a ladder bridge, Turbo and Boost nearly rode over him, and I still tried to pass on the outside, bouncing off the railing and nearly added to the mess. The second trial actually went five laps and only sured up the idea that I'm a little out of shape still. A little post comp shenanigans saw Chip get bored and ride the Teeter's backwards.
The only impressive thing I accomplished was another injury free outing of concrete laced fun and once over a high skinny that scared me enough that I don't need to do it again until I find those flat pedals in the basement somewhere. Cheers.