September 2010
 
I’m in need of an intervention! It’s bad, real bad, and I’m afraid it’s getting worse each passing day.  It all started so innocently. A few hours on Versus watching the Tour, then a few stops at roadcycling.com and before I realized it was standing in the hair removal aisle at Target mulling over whether to use Nair or a safety razor. I had been in a fugue state as I wandered the aisles. Standing there with a bottle of Nair in hand, I realized that imagery of Alpe d'Huez had been populating my day dream in place of Houffalize. With utter shock and dismay, I become cognizant that I was wearing a ridiculous cycling cap in public and even worse I had on sandals along with my cycling socks. Similar to when Adam and Eve's eyes were opened upon eating the fruit, I was filled with sense of shame and guilt. My mountain biking innocence was gone! In desperation and fear, I tried to cover myself with a box of Fig Newtons and rushed home.

Still hoping it was all just a dream, I opened my cycling storage at home looking for my baggie shorts and they were nowhere to be seen. Panicking, I rifled through all of my cycling equipment looking for any evidence that I was still a MTBer. After digging through piles of recently used spandex shorts and European racing jerseys, I found several pairs of wrinkly baggies. Not good at all, the baggie shorts looked like they had been in storage for months and months. At that moment, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my dusty mountain bikes.

Thank God! Seeing my dirty bikes buoyed my sprit and helped to tone down my waking nightmare. A dirty bike must indicate recent use.  While my mountain bikes were in fact dusty, I was mortified to discover that it was ordinary house dust and lint which had accumulated from disuse. What had I become? Was it true that I was a roadie? I thought back on the last time I had ridden one of my mountain bikes. Last week, two urban assault rides at CSU Fresno. While they were close to a qualifying MTB ride, it was not good enough. This called for immediate and decisive action. No simple ride in the park would fix what was ailing me. Something big and extraordinary was called for. Luckily for me the CCORC Coastal Campout and Bike Jamboree at Morro Bay is only 4 days away. A weekend of nothing but mountain bike riding and being surrounded by fellow off roaders may be just what the doctor ordered. Will it work, who knows? Only time will tell.

One thing is for sure, Morro Bay is a special place for me. (First time on a MTB, Morro Bay SP 1987)

Until my next report in October…keep me in your single track thoughts and send fat tire energy my way. I hope you joined us at the Camp Out.