'fessional.

Back in the hotel room. These places make me hungry even when it's a rainy rest day. Anytime the action takes a respite I just think about expanding my stomach until it rebels against me. I'm out in Northern Cali' spinning with the Kelly boys. We're here for a little Tour of California recon training. It's funny that as Gato and I were packing up for the trip on Monday it was almost 70 degrees in VA and rainy and cold in SanFran. W.T.F. Yeah, well, I can deal I suppose because that's the tune I need to get used to for another season of being an on-call bike racer. Some days I'll be jumping at every road opportunity and others I'll dig my claws into the teapot and fight the inevitable. It's been a while since the blogging sector of my brain has been active. I'm aware. It's cool. We're cool, seriously. It's not me, it's you. The holidays are filled with cheap, disposable entertainment anyway. Harrisonburg has been its' usual late December weather friendly bike racer heaven. Some of the locals have been venturing into the WV mountains for snow-day doses of white grass. I've missed some good days apparently. Hell, I've missed'm all. Gotta work. Gotta budget. Gotta sleep in. Gotta strum 5 chords in no particular order. My car doesn't want to drive. I don't want to drive. I'm stuck in inertia. My bike is dirty. I'm out of coffee. On the work front I've been pretty stoked with latest $$ pursuit. Demolition, (a.k.a: DESTROY Everything then sweep up). Le Teapot, Andy Mac and I jumped in head first the day after Christmas. Ride all day then work for 3-6hrs in the eve. Good schedule if you can talk yourself into it. Trade Show Direct is moving out of the building by Shank's bakery bliss and into a big warehouse by the Little Grill. Ken Bell, the man behind "Off road to Athens" owns Trade Show Direct so in a way this really isn't venturing too far out of the cycling world for work. The days are long but an evening of punk rock fueled demolition can be an amazing tonic for a socially tense day of bike practice. Friendship is rare.

Andy Mac is holding down the project while I'm out in California getting wet, cold and dreaming of a hot teapot. This week Ken's got Andy on the hand-held jackhammer obliterating cement blocks that occupy former window frames. He's gonna be ripped by next week when I show up having lost any bench-pressing skills gained from the last couple weeks. Ah, well. Upper body strength is for people that can't climb (I'm talkin' bikes not rocks). Anyway the rides have been fun out here in NorCal minus the extreme animosity towards cyclist from the coffin drivers. WE DON'T WANT TO PLAY YOUR GAME! YES, YOU ARE BIGGER, MORE MANLY AND HAIRIER THAN US. WHATEVER. SORRY FOR COSTING YOU 3 SECONDS AND CAUSING YOU TO LOSE YOUR RECORD GAS MILEAGE AVERAGE BY PINNING IT IN THE RED BY US ON THE WAY HOME FROM YOUR MUNDANE CUBICLE JOBS. I almost got blown into the pacific on day one. Into Great White breeding waters. That would have been perfect. A perfectly unpredictable ending to my grand story. We rode through some amazing scenery that first rainy day. Redwood and eucalyptus tree lined twisty climbs with brush filled storm run-off. Definitely had a soulful wholeness that's lacking in most of my thoughts of the Western states. Yesterday was good but mind-numbing all the same as we rode from Santa Rosa towards Davis. Desolate farm roads that go on for-frickin'-ever. Imagine living there. Good morning nothingness! Perhaps a good place to write a depressing novel about isolation. Day 1: Hmmm... Day 2: Isolation? Tragedy maybe...

Today is a rest day. Rode to Trader Joes. Sushi.

Tomorrow begins three more big days of TOC knowledge building. I'll be home on Monday and may or may not be heading to Camp Clemson shortly thereafter. Note: NorCal is all about Ron Paul.