This past weekend was my ideal recovery weekend: a four day holiday weekend, no races, and 15 hours of riding. I thought I needed long solo rides, but the weekend quickly got set up as social with a two hour easy road ride with Shuster. This was followed by a phone call from Camille, Sam, and Tally to meet them at Bent Creek--Wilsonites I haden't ridden with in a long time, so I took my singlespeed and had a hell of a time with them til about dark. Afterwards we went to visit fellow-former-teammate Ryan Morra, who broke his jaw and collar bone while denting the hood of a car. He got struck real hard while road riding, and he's wired shut for awhile, but he's still very much alive and coherent. The moral's always the same: people aren't always paying attention (whether the biker or driver) and helmets do save lives. I tend to wear my lucky Beatles visor when zipping into town for errands or to meet friends for a beer, figuring its just as good as a helmet and certainly more stylish. That doesn't make any sense. I'm retarded. Do not be like me.

Anyway, Friday, the Nation's 232nd Birthday, or something, the four of us from Friday, plus Philly Cheese Steak did a Pisgah loop I'd been itching to do for awhile. It included some seasonal and hiking-only trails (I have no conscience) so I can't tell you what the route was, but it was awesome. A late thunderstorm and majority-rules decision caused to the ride to be tweaked toward the end and resultantly shortened to put us back at four hours. Initially disappointed, I'm now excited about having a 5+ hour dream loop to do next non-race weekend. Our post-ride, pre-fireworks celebration took place in the raving metropolis of Brevard over $3.50 Grandes. Being at a Mexican restuarant for America's birthday is, these days, a very appropriate way to acknowledge and celebrate the ethnic-heterogeneity and largest minority of this little Melting Pot of a Birthday Boy, I think.

Saturday was my easy day: 2 1/2 road ride, introspective hike at the Alma Mater (which you can see I needed, if you'd read my last two blahgs), then a Rodeo in Old Fort. The Rodeo wasn't as cool as I had hoped, though. Our new housemate's dad told us about a rodeo where they put a monkey dressed up like a cowboy onto a greyhound (the dog, not the bus) and let it run around the arena. That is hilarious! PETA would be pissed, but whatever, they have no sense of humor. Nothing like that happened at this rodeo, not even goat wrangling, which I had also hoped for. Just people on bulls--which is undoubtedly badass, but it's so old-hat.

Then Sunday I somehow weasled my way into a ride with the 2nd faster father-son duo in the Southeast: Nathan and Dwight Wyatt. (The Koerbers, Sam and Bob, would be first, but they hardly count since they're inhumanely unattainable.) Starting from my favorite trailhead in Pisgah, Dwight's route-picking was great and coincendentally included the best part of the Black Mountain Trail, which Friday's group decision caused us to miss. Only we rode it in reverse, which was even better.

So anyway, that was four good days off. Now I'm halfway through the weekly 5:30 am coffee and NY Times cram followed by 10 hours of work and 2-3 hours of recess (i.e. bike riding.) Next weekend is NMBS Nationals and Mount Snow. I want to do well, but right now I don't even now how I'm getting up there. Shoot....