Bad words.

So I've been out here in Oregon for just under a week now and I feel grown up for ensuring tan-lines rather than burn-lines with the cunning use of spf 50. Not getting burned is nice.

Siht, fcku, dmna, I'm out west again. Except this time, instead of the homogeneous urban sprawl of California, it's Portland and Mt. Hood for a week. A week of bike racing in an exotic Norwestern local is one way to romanticize it. And the trip was long and arduous par the norm for travel across this massive continent. So, as it goes, I left on sunday evening for a 7:30 pm departure out of Dulles and gave my self 4.5 hours to get to the secret fee-free parking spot (thank you Marty!). DIA being only two hours away this seemed reasonable enough especially for a person that is welled drilled in the process of air transit. I'm sure all of you in Va. noticed the ridiculous amount of wet fury falling from above on both sunday and monday. I discounted it fully sure of the Subaru's powers of cloud parting. I'll start here with the end of the story. I didn't make it "and if it weren't for you lousy kid's I would have!". My flight was booked as the last one of the day so, conveniently, there were no standby options. So that sweet new spot has history with me now! Always having shit to sleep on in your vehicle comes highly recommended from this ever so slightly helpless bike racer. That paired with water and peanut butter and you're dialed 5star action on four wheels. Hindsight also reveals the urgent need for alcohol in the survival kit. Listen up, up and comers! Gotta travel 'fesh to ride 'fesh.
The trip out here was traumatic enough to wonder what might of happened if I had followed my hyper reactionary tendencies. I decided with some help that sucking it up and shelling $600.00 for the last minute flight to Portland was worth my future on pavement bicycles. In the morning I made the soggy trip down a busy road with all my gear and slithered under a gate into the Dulles employee parking lot. Then I jumped on the bus with pilots and various other airport people to the terminal. I'm sure they noticed me in my geared out attire and had second thoughts about their choice of occupations. Hopefully you know, because it takes work to be a strung out pro athlete. Inspiration for the people! More likely they were just tired working folk bobbing back and forth wondering who I was and why I was there.

We raced in downtown Portland by the river on day one. I warmed up on the amazing urban bike paths that make the city so cycling friendly. I entertained myself by checking out all subversive stenciling on the paths and bridge. I'm a seeker. The rest of the week was full of up and down, push and pull and blips of success for the team. The Baj won the King of the mountains jersey and the team was 3rd in the team competition. I got fined $20 for littering. I plead not guilty and would find it hilarious to be suspended over refusal to pay the fine.

Plane tomorrow.

-Nick