Com'n off the couch... there's just no competition

(Out of the office most of the day, thanks to Cap'n and B for the write up...the one editorial suggestion was applied)

How fitting that ride number 103 had only three riders. RG did show up in the right kit with the wrong bike for the Mosquito send off, which helps with FT3 solidarity. We loaded up while the local homies spied us from across the Mosquito lot. With only B, Book, Cap and X present, carpool was at the height of efficiency. Arrival at the Knot lot found that temps were mild but there was some patchy snowy cold on the ground. While donning our FT3 jersey's there was discussion about the sac bee and local news covering our expeditions and individual handle-bearing jerseys selling for top dollar. "The B jersey's are half price this week." Yes, we think highly of ourselves. The departure out Cap'n's trail and across Sly Park Road had us feeling exploratory and we ventured into new grounds. It was decided that if we had taken said route in the dark we might have felt like we were at the deliverance cabin as we passed a partially tarped mobile home. No matter, we found a sweet single track that took us to a rocky fireroad and back down to familiar territory near the spillway. Being only a three pack and not accustom to seeing the spillway actually spill, we stopped for a homey photo shoot there. We then proceeded on to Fleming, which was in good condition, very little snow to ride through and trails were not as wet as we had expected. X was definitely feeling his oats and it is clear that burying it at the 24 has produced some quality fitness for him. He noted that he is already looking forward to next year's 24, indeed the bug has bitten him. B, in spite of having taken down two summits worth of May pow, was still charging. The Fleming decent was sweet in the evening light, damp but the trail was tacky and seemed a bit like the north shore, but what do I know having not ridden there. The fireroad climb near the parking lot produced some sticky mud so we opted out of redneck rising for a road ride up MET in honor of road man RG who gave us the send off, not to mention the TOC this weekend. Our intent was to drop the right lip before sundown, alas, lights were on on the way down. At the bottom the twighlight and light fog coming off the lake was fitting of a haiku but none was produced.

We headed back via horse trail, then took the steep climb up the powerline and decended the powerline trail. X and I were qued up for a granny free ride up until that point. Whilst dropping back to the lake, X's light died and my front tire was going flat. We took the road back to the Knott. With light encouragement, the Knott Dad, who was provided a handle last night, 'even keel,' was encouraged to turn on the Giants/Padres game and he pleasently ablidged. Wille the supposed taco champion was there with his knotthead friends and gave me a bit of flack for taking the Pepper Plant in his vicinity. I still took it. Tacos were good, sauce selection light, although the trifecta of Pain sauces was produced. We met some of Lars' wirey ultra running friends - a couple, the only couple, that has completed 1000 miles worth of Western States 100 runs. Each with knee surgeries and wobbly ankles, another reason Lars should stick with cycling.

(Running with a balanced cycling mix or Cycling with a balanced running mix keeps the mind fresh and body healthy!)

Until we Ride
LOtB