The Hay is in the Barn

Yep, the day loathed by folks unhappy with their work choice, has arrived again.

Today, it has a little different tint for me. I don't have much going on at my day job today, so I've arranged to turn wrenches for a little extra dough. I need to finish finessing Mingo's bike back into working order, on the off chance he takes the Fool's Gold bait. Wrecking Ball got his name from his innate ability to mysteriously explode seemingly indestructible bike parts. I'm fast beginning to refer to Mingo as, The Grinder. Nothing ever fails catastrophically with him, but I promise you, he gets every last ounce of goodie out of that bicycle shaped oreo. No worries. We have the technology. We can rebuild her.

Speaking of Fool's Gold, she looms on the horizon.. We roll out Friday morning. Phil is supposed to be meeting us in Atlanta, for lunch. He texted me something about "the best ribs EVER!". I just need to be sure the restaurant that houses such an accomplishment has an organic, low fat, turkey sandwich, that looks and smells suspiciously of Subway, so Silk will be happy. The other two in the truck are card carrying southern boys, so hopefully they will be good to go.

Fool's Gold spooks me a little. Given the facts that I'm a true to life clydesdale and a quarter, or damn close, and the organizer's bizarre ability to find a damn 10 mile climb, in GA, it's gonna be a long day for me, my taint, and my saddle to become super close; like marrying your first cousin, close. I look forward to the trip, though. No doubt, it will be a challenge for me, but I'm okay with that.

It's not the general difficulty of a ride that long that bothers me, it's the fear of cramps. Being a well insulated big guy, and the fact that it is still summer, even if it is NORTH Georgia, I cramp like mad after 4.5+ hours. I've tried a million tricks, with mixed success. After their first Fool's Gold, Silk, Double D, and Danny Boy came back touting the magic of mustard. Sounded good, so I gave it try. Total flop. Now I'm pedaling down the trail, trying to not to cry as an angry muscle attempts to relocate my groin down by my kneecap, and really wishing I had a hot dog, a slice of cheese, and some chopped onion, to go with that useless mustard I just gulped.

So be it. I have not died yet from cramps, so I probably won't this time, either.

Has anyone heard from Lil' Ball lately. Best I can tell, he hacked the Drunkcyclist site. I hope not. Some of those AZ boys seem a little twisted, and several seem to be somewhat nomadic. They may come looking for him.

It's a week of easy rides for me. Like Silk said, "the hay is in the barn". I guess now it's time for some recovery type, barn dancing.