During each of the past two summers, there has come a night when I told myself I wouldn’t sign up for another 24 Hours of Kincaid. It happens in the wee hours when I'm cold, stiff and searching for the energy to push my flabby ass through another lap. Dodging moose and porcupines while beating myself up in the woods just loses its allure at 3 a.m.
Once the sun returns from its brief dip below the horizon, my mood picks up and I start thinking the whole thing is fun again. With good teammates, humor overrules torment. Within a few days of the race, I already have in the back of my head that I’ll probably do the next one. Looks like it’ll happen again this year.
Frigid Bits star DaveIT is roundin’ up a team, and Scott, a great teammate of mine from the 2004 race, wants in on the action. All we have to do is draft one more rider into this bloody madness. I’m hoping for a fellow geezer. Otherwise, I’m screwed. I’ll be clocking the slowest times on the team and callin’ everyone else “sonny boy.”
It’s time to get serious about this “training” crap. Time to ride with a purpose. That’s part of the reason I sign up for these crazy ideas—to motivate myself. My bold goal: A level of fitness high enough to avoid humiliation. Oh, yeah. I set the bar high, baby.
I might get started this weekend at the spring mountain bike festival put on by the Valley Mountain Bikers and Hikers up at Kepler-Bradley State Park in the Mad-Zoo Valley. Their turf dries out earlier than our Anchorage trails, so I'm lookin' at driving up with Dave for the afternoon group ride.
If you’re local and looking for the particulars, here’s the post on the mtbr.com forum.
Today's photo is of Team JAWS near the end of last year's 24 Hours of Kincaid. That's "A" gettin' a pre-lap massage from "J" and "W" while "S" was out on the course destroying people.
Those freakin' mutants. Twenty-three hours of racing and they look like they just got out of their cars and set up camp.
Me? I could barely raise my arms to shoot the picture.