tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19455159.post-1150223386795360212006-06-13T10:18:00.000-07:002006-06-13T11:29:47.260-07:00Whooooo, boy, I really sucked this weekend at the state RR's. But that's not the topic of this piece. Although, really, I raced like a total bonehead and I paid for it by having a total spinal tap about thirty yards from the finish line. I was almost like that chick at the Ironman that time who spent the last 50 yards of the race crawling and crapping all over the place--I would have wrote shitting, but it wouldn't alliterate with crawling, okay? But I wasn't that bad, I just could not bend my fucking leg anymore. Talk about a total bitch slap. When your legs seize, you could be just inches away from an Olympic Gold, or (insert name here) could be laying there naked with arms outstretched and there is no way you could make it to that prize. If Fish hadn't appeared out of nowhere, pulling my lame ass back onto the saddle and pushing me and my bike across the finish line, I'd probably still be out there. But that's not what this is about. What this is about is another kind of breakdown--a lapse of self confidence by none other than-------drumroll, please, and I'll just state what you never thought you'd ever hear, so here it goes . . . . . Butthead has given up beer. . . . . . due to shitty racing!!!!<br /><br />He revealed this revelation to me the evening after stinking up two races in a row. And he unveils this personality quirk when we're in a perfect Butthead situation--looking down our noses at a pack of redneck, greaser parents who are celebrating the fact that they are convinced their double-wide contains the next Carl Edwards cause their kid just won a gaudy, cheap-ass trophy at the soap box derby. So these cretins are on the outside patio of a local yuppie micro brewery--which I'm sure they think is called "micro" cause they allow all denominations to drink there--celebrating the only thing they've won in about forever, and Butthead can't even get drunk enough to look down on them. I swear he kept making excuses for them and ordering more lemonade.<br /><br />It seems that the cockiest bike racer who ever stuffed toilet paper into his chamois bulge is having a crisis. This is the guy who once offered drunken racing tips to Roberto Gaggioli. This is the guy who swore that Steve Tilford would be his cyclocross bitch one day. This is the guy who calls Joe Hill, "Little guy." This is the guy who wrote the book on psychological warfare in bike racing. This is the guy who would taunt the current MOBAR champion for every one of a sixty-mile training ride and then be incredulous when the guy cracked and wanted to throw down with him. This is the guy who once forced an elderly, peace-loving X-hippie to slug him in the gut because he was being so fucking irritatingly obnoxious (and the showpony is my eye witness on that one).<br /><br />I think I heard him say he was gonna try it for a week. What I'm hoping is that he'll see the light well before then. If you ride your bike as much as Butthead does, there is no way you could drink enough beer to harm your racing. The thing he has forgotten is that occasional shitty racing is just a part of the game. Hell, without the shitty races, how would you truly be able to appreciate the good ones? Besides, a little shitty racing just helps you keep your perspective in line with reality. You have to learn to embrace an occasional shitty race or three. Lift a pint or two in their honor--it only means you know the difference. There's no reason to let shitty racing turn you into whaleshit--that's the lowest thing on earth. Later.JimmyMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10671187171115476076noreply@blogger.com