For those of you wondering where the updates are, I've said it in the past and I like it so, I'll say it again. I haven't been waiting all this time for perfect blogging weather.
The Victoria's Secret race is this weekend. This weekend that happens to be a long one for us north of the border types. Victoria Day! Say what you will about an estranged and bizarre monarchy up here, but no one is complaining when the old May Two-Four shows up on the calendar. I will be hitting that shit, like it's a COED in matching Super Girl pajamas and pillow case. With my own Batman pillow, of course.
Notice: No super tanlines. Must be one of her powers.
Edit: The picture didn't lose any of it's impact, that's for sure. The race was great 115+ riders, great course. I rode with the A cat dudes and finished mid pack-ish with one flat tire. I usually ride B cat, but if the elite guys get to do more laps then it's bang for the buck that trumps. Does this make any sense?
I've actually planned what I'm calling the Inaugural South Eastern New Brunswick Greatest Misses MTB Epeeek! Camping and biking around the region laying waste to all of the bits of single track that I miss the most. The Bluff in Sussex, NB; Green Snake in Alma, NB; White Rock Park in Hillsborough, NB and the race in Truro, NS, if only, to incorporate a neighboring province and fortify the epeeekness of the tour, and in case I start feeling guilty for doing so much riding for free.
I did the tour as planned. It was awesome. I can't imagine a better way to spend one's weekend. I even bagged off work on Tuesday and caught the final short track event of Mike's Bike Shop Cup. This is the best little race series; super fun, even in the rain. Lessons were learned and growth was growed. I learn that it takes a special sort of person to camp in the middle of nowhere alone and Craiguer learned that you should call your track if you intend to pass another rider. Another rider with with his knuckle on one nostril, especially.
I want to shout out, now, to my provincial governing body of cycling, VeloNB. I needed a last minute race license and they came through for me within hours of my plea. Sheila, if ever I become involved in a fire I'm not leaving until it's your arms that carry me out, and with the last breathe left in my lungs I will sing the Bodyguard theme song while you whisk me to safety.
Sheila keeps the local cycling and racing community close to heart and close to home. Her son is none other than Stuart Wight, a junior who's attracting some serious attention and not just on this side of the big drink. The Pavé loves him and he's headed for some respectable palmares.
While I'm at it, I may as well yell something for the kids at Outdoor Elements, Sussex, NB. I missed Johnny 'Big Air' McNair, but Cole set my local compass for me and was a portrait of mud-caked hospitality.
Towns I've lived in are sometimes like ex's, in that, sometimes I miss them, but mostly just for the riding. (Ohhh! That's right I said it!) My old stomping grounds are assuring you that you will most likely, probably, under normal circumstances not die while trying to ride your from cougar bar A to strip club B. Because, that's how they roll in Monkeytown: Deshabillé (pronounced ds-bl, -b. Don't say you never learned anything from Lucky).
Vo2 Max sent me this handsome NS Cycling Calendar to forward to you all in the Inner "never-never" nettes. BNS has some great events that I wouldn't imagine missing. Gorefest 8 Hour is giving me wood and saddles sore at the same time. This will show up again, but you should start planning now, what with the costumes to make and furniture for bonfires to collect.
I don't know wtf is wrong with this picture. Click it to see it see a bigger/clearer one.
Well, I'm off like prom dress. Have a stellar long weekend, fellow Canadians, and Yankee (Confederate?) readers try and find yourself a queen and maybe, take Monday off to appreciate the royal family jewels.
You did, didn't you?
Husslin' with flare.
It's been a rough year for illness. I think I'll hit the local health'o'mart for some pro biotic, voodoo cocktail. A patchouli scented co-worker of mine says that have a concoction for post antibiotic, lung recovering. It will only cost a small fortune, because health plans like mine won't cover anything that will keep you from falling ill, only pharmaceuticals to keep you alive and paying your premiums.
Upon being well enough to covertly mingle with living I made way to Woolastook Park for a trail day. Pretty much the usual tasks: Clearing dead falls and cutting back the more eager brush from trail side. This day was unique in that there was not a leaf rake to be seen. Trail Maestro, Mr. Yertle, pick himself up a new toy, and seeing this marvel of European two stroke engineering in action is the only way you would believe it's awesominity (So in awe was I, that this word was born.)Hot damn, the trails were in such good shape. It is practically unheard of to have access to trails for maintenance this early, let alone, for riding. Which is exactly what I used them for the very next day. I'm no mucker when it comes to riding wet trails. That's what double track is for; early season wet riding. I rode every foot of the new course outline for the upcoming Woolastook 5 hour race, completely guilt and mud free. Un-f@ckin-precedented.
Some friends just ripped up Green Snake in Alma, NB. If you're visiting the loverly Fundy National Park and looking for some riding. This trail would be the best thing going that is close by, unless you're poaching hiking trails in the park. Like double fisting whiskey and rum. I've done. I don't condone it. Green Snake is multiuse, but welcome to MTBers. Here's a vid from Rosy.
I have amassed all of the required parts and will have my new single speed assembled and photo ready by next posting. It will be provocative. It will be scandalous. It will get me some podium. That's the plan, anyway. Has podium become more important to me than ass?