Woosh

Yikes, what a week. I went for a ride on a mixed terrain of dirt/road/path via the mountain bike on Wednesday. Felt great! Mojo was shot into the system like a crack/coffee/meth enema via the saddle of Ti goodness and fat tires. These days it seems that my chamoised arse and aging brain does not care where I ride, but does care on which steed I ride. So for now I will continue to roll the fatty.

Putting out XXC #8 yesterday almost killed me. NOT due to the mag itself. That part rocked, but due to stupid shopping carts and shipping settings that were all jacked up. Took me ALLLLL day to figure out. ALLL DAY! Almost had a complete mental melt down. Wait, I'm pretty sure that happened ages ago. Spent all day un-showered and in the clothes I slept in the night before. I was as ripe as that old guy behind me in line at the bank (minus the smell of urine). BUT in the end I got it figured out, and the mag is out there.

I had mixed feelings about this issue's release due to the other web stresses, etc., I think it will be a day or two before I look at it with any sense of accomplishment. Right now I find myself thinking things like "not sure how many more of these I've got in me?" But then again I say that about things like racing too and it looks like I'm doing a Duo with my friend Plum Grove Pete at the 18 Hours Scouts Honor race on the 21&22. Should be a scene. I'm on the edge diving head first into an open pool of race/fitness/life suck and Pete is suffering with about every form of bronchial and flu like symptom known to modern man. But a fun course, and hanging out with him and Brad (racing solo) should cure me. Not sure about sick boy, but I'll be good.

Gotta split, mucho work to tidy up. And MAYBE squeeze some sort of workout in. Looking forward to tomorrow's Velo Zen Time.

Later.