Friday, February 26, 2010

Bike Smack, KC and Wapiti in Quebec

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Ok, February is about the pits. It is kind of like canker sores. Why must they exist and why do they last so long? This has got to have been the longest February that I can remember. It has been cold, uninviting for outdoor anything and the cycling season is nearing. I am not at all in shape, except for keeping off the weight that I usually put on. I am thinking the new kits will be tight enough to lift my muffin tops inward. That is why Boz and I order smaller than we should.

What was that? Did I hear the excitement of Boz and Bauer, Krewet, anyone from the DRJ, anyone from Bigshark, Mesa, anyone who thinks the Pfoodman won't show up this year. Well, I have something to say. Take all your dope. Inject yourselves with mood altering smegma that gets you through the January and February training pain. I don't care. I will show up when I show up. I choose not to be Mr. January, hill climber, attack at the top in sub 30 degree weather toad. I choose to put off my fitness, until it is a tad warmer. I may be dangling with one hand while typing this. You don't know and you don't want to know the type of training that I have been doing. I think you are all gay. Who is shaving their legs right now? I want to know, how many of you 45 + men are shaving your legs?

Now, I might also say that while rebuilding my Salsa for a backup bike, they found a crack in the chain stay, so the Doz Niner gets hung on the wall next to the Indy Fab at Lone Wolf. We will do a small ceremony, and, if you don't get the invite it means that we can only hold a hundred or so. We expect a big crowd, that bike was the snizz, I am sad.

But my Van Dessell will be here in a few. And now that the tax season is on us. I will likely be riding my bike down to the loop to sit in front of Bigshark and play the guitar for money. I did this in New Orleans and made six dollars in less than 10 minutes. Just enough for some rice and beans purveyed by my boys at the hostel, where I should have been staying instead of my 200 dollar a night goodness of the Roosevelt Hotel. That place was pretty cool. Haunted too. Another story.

Thinking about going to Kansas City on business and want to check out the music scene. I noticed Mark Wulff is playing for the (Kansas City) Clique now. And they have gotten pretty big, touring and doing large conference work on a circuit. That is good work, steady and a splice in to the big game. Good luck Mark, have not seen you in a while since Line One, that was a good band. I used to go and see those guys at (I think it was) Buzzard Beach in KC prior to moving to St. Louis. I moved to Kansas City for a couple months after living in Houston before landing in St. Louis. I made a living by betting on football during the fall of 86. John Manning likely still owes me money. I won most of my money in a rent credit, for flopping at his apartment on Bellvue. Sorry about the plumbing story John. I still have a hard time burying that in the list of things I should have never done. I didn't play much there, occasionally got up and jammed at a blues club somewhere in Westport. I was needing to move on.

Looking forward to the next Vy conference. Quebec. I think this will be another life changing experience and we look forward to handling some of the program. Kevin tells me there will be a Wapiti Experience. I am thinking it looks like this:

We leave the lodge at three in the afternoon with backpacks (bedding and clothes for one day) and night gear, lights, in order to hike partially in the dark. We hike for 4 hours, into a remote cabin cluster high on the hill with a lodge, a fire is lit by a storyteller and cook named Tomee works deligently on the nights fare. Dinner is ready. Tomee has created a menu out of indigenous foods and the stories behind them, he has bought local, harvested seafood from the streams nearby, baked breads in the ovens on site. We sit at a candlelit dinner table, roaring fires keeping the wooden timbers orange with color, warmth, and the smell of toasted pine. We eat, drink, tell stories of our life altering experiences, those which connect us and embody the spirit of life and achievement. We share our stories, eat food, drink wine, and learn from others the keys to fulfillment. Awakening, both the reward of a mountain vista and spirited horses await to bring us down the mountain. Me, I am staring at a turquoise Yeti leaning against the side of the wood pile pointed down the sweet singletrack.

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