Over and Out.....

Little kids have wisdom beyond their years. One time while visiting North Dakota and eating at the kiddie table, where I rightfully belong, a nephew declared: “You can’t do that. It’s like swimming in gravy.” So true. And it sums up the Berryman Epic for me. I have been done riding my bike for a few weeks, opting for the couch and skate park workout, both of which do nothing to prepare you for 60 miles of dirt biking “fun.” I met up with the Springfield crew; I am not sure if they like me or just need someone to pick on. I bring my share of food, pay the same cut for the cabin and get sent directly to the floor with no discussion, ridiculed for my crooked large brain bucket and repeatedly exposed to their “man parts.” This combined with our cabin being next to some really drunk chicks that were two weight classes up from Skip and I together made from some interesting off the bike time.After sleeping on the floor and hearing all the secrets Huffy keeps in his sleep, we woke up early. I should have listened to Brackett and just chilled at the cabin and drank beer. The trail was great, the organization and support was spot on. I was comfortable the first two hours then just came unglued. I was swimming in gravy. I pin-balled off rocks for the next few hours while mildly hallucinating as light filtered through the trees. All the while dreaming of mountains of fried chicken, bacon and beer that I was going to consume after this personal suffer fest. Luckily East Coast Brawler triple flatted and was walking home and provided some food. I owe you one ECB. I finished and learned a valuable lesson that it is best to be prepared or not start at all. Big ups to everyone that finished especially those that raced it. After finishing, all I could do was eat and pack my sorry ass home and try to get ready for work on Monday.

Monday morning came early. I cut myself shaving and was going to take the bus. I hate walking so I coast to the stop and load my bike on the bus. When the bus came there was no bike rack. The driver says “Someone stole it. Sorry. The next bus in 45 minutes might have one.” Someone really hates me. It was a long commute and since I missed the bus it was a turtle time trial, not to mention I was bleeding from shaving.

I should have pulled the plug on the season long ago, but the Berryman Epic -- how could I resist? Thanks to all the promoters, racers and fans who make dirt biking happen in the Midwest this and every year. We are lucky to have a great group of people. So to do my little part we are putting on a little race.