Holier Than Thou? First Knee Hole of 2010!

ER bands are the new "Livestrong" for 2010....

The "Gang" l to r: Teenwolf, Brian, Damon, The Blog, Mark, Tobe, Steve and BILLY (photo courtesy of Billy and his tripod)
Where to begin folks? Saturday was the Ian Foyster Memorial ride. The temperatures were below freezing at the start and the 25 mph headwind made things uncomfortable. But the ride must continue! There was no turning back. We were committed. Toby Porter had a wonderful 40 mile loop planned out comprised of 75 percent dirt roads/sand pits and 25 percent asphalt. We rolled out without Joshie and Jose because they went to the wrong parking lot. Idiots. A brief stint of pavement and it was onto our first bit of dirt road. The sun was shining and because of the relaxed tempo, the wind wasn't as biting as it could've been. Charlotte messenger and fellow blogger Billy Fehr showed up on his work bike and was soon chatting about the weird terrain: sand. Sand everywhere people. Then the surface turned into a strange, ancient, Tolkienian mixture of granite and limestone, striating the road with ribbons of black and gray that were older than Brantley, the oldest man in the universe. After fifteen miles or so, we rolled onto a nicely packed clay road that had us picking up speed. Around mile twenty, after watching Billy ride with no hands on his fixed gear while wielding a giant Sony camera and negotiating turns at the same time, The Blog decided to have the mother of all wrecks. Simply put, attention was not being paid, the front wheel wiped out and The Blog's leg slammed onto a sharp piece of rock protruding from the earth. It pierced the skin and ripped out a large chunk of flesh. It was a little smaller than a dime but it was almost to the bone. Worst still, The Blog tore its beloved 11 year old Pearl Izumi winter tights up! Heavens to murgatroid! Why me??!?! Why is this happening? Well, after the shock of shredding my tights wore off, I picked up my bike and noticed one of my Campy hoods was torn beyond recognition. The tears welled up. The bottom lip was bit and the mental breakdown was stifled until The Blog was safely ensconced in the privacy of his palatial manor, wrapped in a velvet smoking jacket drowning his sorrows in a bag of miniature Almond Joys, but The Blog digresses. My leg in tatters, my tights in ribbons and my dignity slowly leaving my body along with six quarts of blood, I pulled myself together and got back on the bike, focusing on keeping the pedals turning as I wondered what sort of woodland creature would consume the bit of meat I left roadside. I surmised either a Great Horned Owl or Wood Nymph. Egads. Anyhoo, besides some of the the soupiest, craziest sandy roads The Blog has ever encountered and the well-meaning shepherding of several "country" dogs, the rest of the ride went smoothly. Upon arrival, we all packed up and posed for a group photo. Billy did the ole reach-around on Steve. I love that guy! The Blog went home and almost passed out when it saw the giant, festering wound on its leg. A trip to the ER was in the cards, but THAT gentle reader is a tale for another day, and another blog, but not cuteoverload.com because that is a most unsavory site with cats and baby koalas. That is all.

Destroyed Campy hood (out of focus)

Product placement: NEW white Hudz!!! Hooray...For pics of the ride and some gore, check out Billy's write up: http://whereonearthisbill.blogspot.com/
Also, if you're in need of a bike messenger while visiting Charlotte, give him a call. (ahem)