Last night makes me wish I was involved in a sport that involved an hour of leisurely shooting at ambiguous furry beasts through a whiskey-induced haze followed by an evening of more whiskey around a fire surrounded by canvas tents with wood floors and hired servants. And cigars! Don't forget the damned cigars!
Instead I flail myself weekly (weakly?) at this godforsaken auto racing track in the middle of a part of Portland reserved primarily for geese.
But last night's PIR was good fun in its own twisted way. Despite the fact that my legs have no snap whatsoever and my fitness is nowhere, I managed to hang on Tresser's wheel for at least one points sprint. I gotta say, figuring out how the sprinter crowd shucks and jives their way through a field of nervous bike racers has been interesting.
I think I'm gonna lift some weights this winter and get some Steger muscles.
1 comment:
Sorry I missed it this go around but ironically enough last week I felt as if I was in a whiskey-induced haze, it was all to strange and surreal.
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