Man Love and other Breck Thoughts

The 2012 edition of the BRECK EPIC will be a go in some and so 60 days.

For you, there can only be three possible responses;

• You have entered.
• You have not entered, you will be doing so, you are just slow.
• You have not entered, you will not be doing so, you are a pussy.

Certainly, if you have entered, you probably and already know that you  aren’t number ONE.

Because I am (see below).
And two ONE’s would be 11.

This will be my FOURTH visit and (coincidently, I think not) the fourth annual, BRECK EPIC.

For me and personally, the BRECK EPIC, once and again, was (s)elected ‘the race where I will most likely die dead‘.

While the BRECK has failed to take me in it’s last three attempts, it stands to all and fair reason (given the inevitability of eventuality) that it will succeed at least once.
Sometime.

If the potential of my graphic demise isn’t lure enough, then consider that the 2012 Breck will play host to TWO (other) of the most influential cycling events of all this time;

1. Least importantly:
   By registering (in the single speed category) competitors qualify to compete (they are mandatorily enrolled) in the SSSRWC (Single Speed Stage Race World Championship).
   Personally, I think Mike’s taking the piss with SSSRWC.
   If he is, well played.
   If he is not, then the SSSRWC will be victoriously ironic to all but two persons (Mike and it’s eventual ‘winner’).
2. Most importantly:
   All registered riders (in the single speed category) are invited to the CELEBRITY WORSHIPPING (aka Roast) of Misfit Psycles brainchild and me myself, Peter Keiller.
   It’s about fucking time.
   Really.

Commitments have been made, on my part, in the broadest sense.
All that remains, really, is the logistics of everything else.

• Transportation to Denver.
• Shuttling to Breckenridge.
• Accommodations in Breckenridge.
• Shuttling to Denver.
• Transportation to Toronto.

Of course I could stay with Rich Dillen, but he has elected for collegiate type accommodations.  That is, a bevy of spandex clad men lounging about sucking on noodles and Hersey Kisses.

Of course I could stay with Montana Miller (if his parents allow sleep-overs), but his registration says he’s an Ohiophyle.  Which is fine.  Just not for me.

Of course I could stay with Thom Parsons, but his registration isn’t a definitive indicator of his actual attendance…that is, if I translated his recent emails properly.

Of course I could stay with George Wisell, but (unlike Thumb) his lack of registration infers he is NOT actually attending (New Englanders are so fucking confusing) and that could impede his ability to reserve and pay for it all.

Of course I could stay with Vince Anderson, but he didn’t invite me.

Dandurland Dandurland, Mikey Melley and TWELVE others have failed to step up with logistical offerings of support.
Perhaps they are unaware that I, myself, am the same Peter Keiller being honoured and adored this year.
Perhaps they fear the sting of rejection.

I could wax poetic, reflect or otherwise express my lament and disappointment, instead, I have other plans.
I have elected to bottle it all up.
Repress it, save it, for full-prolific-release at STAGE 7.

Still on the fence?
READ THIS.
Then register.