Your emails and calls of concern for my well being have been heard.
The outpouring of love was nearly gratifying.
Seven emails.  Four calls.
One week…

To the asshole that called my parents looking to buy the remnants of the Empire for a cardboard coffin and six-pack of Pabst.
Fuck You.
Imagine their disappointment when I informed them I wasn’t dead.

Resoundingly unmotivated to recount the final days of the Breck Epic 2010 I lounged, single cheek propped and lap top resting on my gelatinous growth, watching TERMINATOR.
We shared Doritos.
It’s not that I hadn’t written.  I wrote’d.
Bike Mag chose not to publish (any of) it.
Fuckers.

Aside from the obvious explosions and expletives there were a number of underlying parallels clearly hidden in that 1984 class act.
Terminator I mean, not Bike.

Arnold is the Terminator.  A really good really bad guy in black.
Linda is Sarah.  A whinny self righteous world saving bitch.

I am the Terminator.
Dicky, Sarah.

The Breck Epic, our current tense recent past post apocalyptic world.
Directive, destroy Dicky.
Thusly preventing any future time Dick-spawn love-child of  history altering bullshit…

Or whatever.

As I lay awkwardly in my futuristic black leather couch I thought of the Breck stages in terms of the Terminator.

Handsome naked Arnold.
Determined Arnold with a jacket.
Violent Arnold missing parts of his fabricated flesh.
Explo-melted Arnold in all his robotic killing glory.
Half robot Arnold with red eyes and crushing hands of fury.
Destroyed Arnold with single surviving arm (somebody say sequel…)

I set forth to compile these images and wry footnotes of comparison.

Then I stopped.

I fucking HATE the new goober image search interface.

Instead, I channeled my outer artist.

What follows is a compilation by condition.
Each image a virtual reflection of post-stage me.

Finish?
Fuck Yeah.  Then some.

August 27, 2010
I got VD.

VICTORY.
over
DICKY.

Sorry Mike.
I’ll be back.

Fully and completely aware that reviews for the second and (to some extent) the first stage have not yet been published.

Anywhere.

Perhaps starting article #1 for Bike Mag with “Fuck” was a miscalculation.
Perhaps they just haven’t gotten around to it.

Stage 3.
9100′ of climbing.
12,200′ of vertical.
Crossed the continental divide, twice.

At mile 14 I experienced my very first flat in NINE stages of the Breck Epic.
Terminus endus airus struck 15′ away from neutral support.
Victory.

To say I was a little cautious after this would be an understatement.

Then, a mere 5 miles later, I crested 12,200′ and was compelled by my super-single-track tunnel vision.
While I assumed it to be some super power of awesome gifted upon me for my glowing performance, I later found out it was altitude stabbing me in the mind.

In 2009 Keith Bontrager put out an arm (just after the crest) and said, somewhat sternly, you don’t want to ride that…

…2010 Breck has no Keith…

After two failed attempts to stand (the kind of fail that results in greater injury) I elected to wait for assistance.
And pity.
Neither arrived in the three or so minutes I had allocated so I collected my shit and began walking.
Walking hurt like a motherfucker so I started riding.

Whatever hurt might be that is worse than a motherfucker would be what I hurt.

For the next twenty miles and 4000′ of climbing.

Fuck you Breck, I win.
I didn’t lose anyway.

Except for my helmet.  It is broken.
And my Enduralite case.  It broke into my flesh.  As did my gel jug and multi-tool and the shitty ass Olympus camera I bought.

Stage 4 is currently listed as doubtful.

Little Rich Dillen (who, despite my near death, was STILL unable to beat me) has done a fabulous job of not smirking at this prospect.

The how and what that are Breck Epic Stage 1 may or not make the pages of LIESNSHITE.

As it turns out, Mike McCormack may or may not have whored my thoughts out to BIKEMAG.

Of course I am incapable of ‘professional’ grade thoughts.
Altering point of perspective is not an option.

So.
In the event that the bile I spew forth to BIKE isn’t…appropriate…I will cut and paste a day later…first refusal.

Just in case, a little something.

Dicky done prepared a revised ratio for Stage 2…evidently 23T wasn’t what it was supposed to be.

I’m not saying I’m proud of my performance today, but I am thankful, it could have been a whole fuck-of-a-lot worse.

OTHER NEWS:

Hotel (room) sources;

RICH ‘DICKY’ DILLEN

THOM ‘BIG BIKES’ PARSONS

DOUG ‘I WANT A NAME TOO’ JENNE

Other sources (so far);

FLICKR

BIKE RUMO(u)R

Still no ONLINE results…anyone?  Anyone?

Got an email from Mike McCormack in the wee hours (last night, this morning).
Too late to make a matter on stage 1.  Certainly, anything I needed to know would have been discussed at the racer meeting(s).  Racer meetings are meetings for racers, when you miss the racer meeting (for missing the meeting that discussed racer meetings at some other point) it makes it very difficult to ascertain details of the days.

Mike has had some issues staying current (cyberly) 2010 course details are not posted on the main website…below is a pasting of the superficialities for the week.

STAGES:

Sunday, August 22, Course #1: Pennsylvania Creek
Monday, August 23, Course #2: The Colorado Trail
Tuesday, August 24, Course #3: The Guyot Loop
Wednesday, August 25, Course #4: The Keystone Loop
Thursday, August 26, Course #5: The Wheeler Loop
Friday, August 27, Course #6: The Gold Dust Loop

DESCRIPTIONS:

BE Penn Creek Loop:
Start: Ice Rink, Finish: Carter Park
Approx 39.5 mile 6100’ climbing

BE Colorado trail Loop:
Start: Lower Washington
Finish: Bomber TH Parking Lot (across street)
Approx 41 miles 7300’ climbing

Guyot Loop:
Start: Blue River Plaza
Finish: B&B Trailhead
Approx 44 miles 9400’ climbing

Aqueduct Loop:
Start: Lower Washington
Finish: B&B Lot

Wheeler Loop:
Start: Skier parking lot on South Park Road
Finish: same
Approx 40 miles 7300’ climbing

BE Gold Dust Loop:
Start: Ice Rink
Finish: Ice Rink
Approx 37 miles 6000’ climbing

Baggage, customs.  The mass retardation of the entire human race.

Upgrade to First Class.

Delayed baggage.  The whole fucking flight.

Upgraded car rental.

Forgot POS digital camera.  All pink sexiness of it.

Reading “Shit My Dad Says“.

Parking lot build.  Predictable realization of (previous) brake bleed fail.

Fifteen minute parking lot (dirty) flush.

Altifuckingtude.  Pillow to the face.

Equipment and gear check.

06:45 breakfasts and 08:10 starts.  Every.  Fucking.  Day.

Tent out.  Hotel in.

The Breck Epic begins, ready or not, tomorrow (or today or Sunday).

Stage ONE…nothing posted on(Breck)line and I wasn’t really able to concentrate with all the no-breathing and head throbbing going on.

NEWS AND RESULTS

Hotel (room) sources;

RICH ‘DICKY’ DILLEN

THOM ‘BIG BIKES’ PARSONS

DOUG ‘I WANT A NAME TOO’ JENNE

Other sources (so far);

FLICKR

BIKE RUMO(u)R

Good Morning.