8 shorter or longer than normal days until Ironman. Yep, that is the one. The biggie. Kinda the race that started it all for me. All of this crazy, I want to race my motorbike feeling. It is also what reignited my love for mountain bikes, and galvanized the burrito as the perfect food. (It is you know). You may feel that all that is unrelated, but the universe is basically just a string or this is dehydrated breakfast cereal hour depending on your vantage point. It just kinda is.
On top of the day’s feeling both long and short they also feel a bit ovalized. In addition to the bellyaching from Ryan this evening here in Lafayette, there will be more next weekend (it is another day after all). Beetle juice.
It is just amazing to me that the season is almost over. As much as I love the ironman race, I also hate it. It is a bitch. It’s harder than it should be, it is crueler than it should be, and it is beautiful all at the same time. The hills are big, the rivers are deep, the mud is incredible, the dirt is amazing, the field sections are something to write about. Wow. Bring it on now.
Because I usually feel like such a tourist for the first hour, Ryan and I are down in Indiana to do a warm up race the week before. Our local racing is over in Sept, so in the past I would just go and race Cyclocross in between the end of our season and the ironman. I was fit, but was completely out of sorts with the motorcycle. A tourist for an hour or so until I could figure it out again. This year, countermeasures.
(Tell me, why is the media so captivated with Donald Trumps love for Fugazi? He does have a smashing hairpiece though!)