Altitude is for the birds.
Bottom line.
Any acclimation previously accomplished in Steamboat was wiped clean on arrival in Breckenridge.
I feel WORSE here then I felt on arrival there.
So much so that sitting still requires more effort then I was willing to invest. Any and all slight grades are cause for heavy breathing and maximum effort.
We headed over to the Firecracker 50.
Late.
Dicky let down many.
The many he was to feed, went unfed.
In his haste and panic to depart Dicky locked us out of the Moots Mansion.
His belongings were safely loaded in the Subaru.
Mine were safely tucked in the apartment.
I am not without blame in this travesty.
I left him unattended while I loaded, reloaded and unloaded to load the bikes in the Subaru.
Like a small child, a box of skittles, a sharpie and a freshly painted wall – this was almost entirely my fault,
I shouldn’t have left him alone.
We will never again speak of how we let down those riders in the hot hot sun, nor will we speak of interrupting Rob (Moots Bossman) at home on his holiday…we should let this slide.
Although several hours late we did arrive in time to watch the second 25miles of the Firecracker.
While this descent doesn’t look so entirely steep…today’s time trial will be run in reverse.
Up.
Carb loading continued well into the early evening hours.

ATTENTION: Tales of hydration hydration hydration are grossly exaggerated.
This Triple H approach to preparedness only results in broken sleep in the form of lavatory trips every 2.5hrs.
Nothing more.
Must finish.
Must finish.
