I signed up to drive a van for my employer's team for this year's Hood to Coast. A more surreal jumble of arms, legs, smells and 3 am doppelganger visions is not to be had anywhere else.
I am not a runner. In fact, the only time you see me engaged in that ridiculous activity is if I am being actively chased by something bigger, hairier and more odiforous than me.
That being said, I gained a new respect for people engaged in this sport. I work with a bunch of people for whom getting our relay team to the coast became the single most important objective of their entire lives. At least this weekend.
I benefitted from a driver's eye view of a beautiful part of Oregon I didn't know existed. The road between Scapoose and Astoria via Jewel and Mist is incredible! I want to ride it as soon as possible.
The drawback to doing this damned thing is huge, however. Instead of getting ready for the last Monday Night PIR of the year, I've been on my ass eating Pringles and drinking beer for the last 5 days.
Tresser and Steger are going to have an easier time of kicking my ass than usual on Monday. The problem with having a body and metabolism like mine is that all I need to do is look at a slice of pie and you can hear the seam rip on my jeans.
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