Over the past weekend, Sean Rhode and I traveled to Columbia, Missouri to participate in the Gateway MS 150 - a ride to raise money for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.
Sean was in charge of driving, as he didn't trust my bike rack to support his precious Trek Madone 5.2... which frankly was fine with me, as I am a huge fan of sleep. Anyhow, I nodded off, and before I knew it, we were in Columbia... at the biggest (pardon my language) shitbag motel I've seen in a while (I won't say the name, for fear of a law suit). Anyway,
this place was a peach. Upon first entering the room, I was hit with an odor that can only be described as a mix of smoke, body odor, spoiled milk, and whatever ejaculations a black light may have detected on the bed covers - as if a fog of stank, produced from the evaporations of garbage juice (that wonderful concoction found at the bottom of restaurant dumpsters), hung perpetually in the air!
It gets better....
Upon entering the room, it was hard not to notice the 1978 Zenith sitting atop the shabby, looks like it was pulled out of a back alley, chest of drawers. OR, for that matter, the refrigerator, literally sitting atop blocks (I kid not). OR (and yes, I know this is grammatically incorrect, so please spare me the comments), the rather deep rift, NAY slope, NAY valley running down the center of the single (yes, I said single) supposedly queen size bed (I believe it was a double) that Sean
AND I were expecting to sleep in later that night. Oh, and I almost forgot... the chair in the corner... think of the nastiest, greasiest head of hair you have ever seen... got it? Great. Now, imagine that layer of hair funk somehow spread to a perfect equillibrium across the worn-out surface of a floral non-reclining recliner... got it again? Just vomit in your mouth a little? Perfect.
Later That Night
Toured Columbia - cool little college town... certainly a place Sean and I could have both enjoyed a lot more in our younger days.
Dinner at Mackenzies Steak and Seafood - an apparently new restaurant in the heart of downtown - a little pricey, but scrumptious - a great place for a pre-race meal.
Club Vogue - yea right... like I'd tell you... all I can say is the place had charisma.
The Next Morning - RACE DAY
Sean and I both awoke in a stupor – balancing in the limbo between passing out and vomiting away our souls – we prepped quickly and headed out the door… after all, there was charitable work to be done!
On the way to the starting line, I contacted my wife and her good friend Melissa, who, like the champs that they are, had stumbled out of bed at roughly 4:AM to drive down and support us… thanks again, both of you.
We met up briefly with Melissa and Erica, received a couple of good luck slaps on the ass, and headed for the starting line… no amount of alcohol, breasteses, or ass shaking was going to keep us from destroying the next 40 miles!
Our Journey Begins….
We took off at a good pace. The field was huge (over 3,100 in total), so it wasn’t too hard to latch on to someone’s tire and enjoy the slipstream… until about mile ten.
I looked over at Sean, Sean looked back at me… the poor bastard was whiter than a North Pole Christmas… I was actually concerned. And, I had been knocked off the road a mile or so back by an old man riding on behalf of some senior home… senile fart nearly killed me. So, I was happy to take a break… for a mile or two.
BUT… this was a race, and low and behold, a galloping linebacker type came flying by… see ya, Rhode. This guy was HUGE – and quite frankly, I was more than happy to play the role of wheel sucker, grabbing on to that wheel and holding on for dear life. My average speed soared… and suddenly, I was 25 miles in… but
where the hell is Sean?
About the 30 mile marker there is a lunch stop. I pull off and wait for what feels like an eternity (probably 4-5 minutes). I was in a great groove, I was pumping at a strong pace, I was blowing by people like they were standing still, NOW I’M STANDING STILL. Finally, Rhode flies by… I go into a dead sprint. Half a mile down the road and I am on his tire… something has happened… “HE’S ALIVE!”
And that’s when team Ixion went to work. We road seamlessly, trading position at the front every mile or so, conserving energy, and gradually passing a lot of riders… then we were alone. Out on some scenic Missouri highway, rolling over hills, all alone. We turn left… and that’s when we see him… one final rider on the road, before that final right hand turn that would lead us to the finish line. We bolt… Sean passes left, I pass right, and now we sprint… the guy we passed is getting smaller and smaller behind us… teamwork pays off… we have a lot of energy left. We pass the girls, Erica and Melissa, sitting patiently, at what we believe is the finish line… I am ahead… I WON! But wait, Rhode thinks the line might be further down the line… he takes off, I chase, we are neck and neck… Rhode crosses the second possible line out front… RHODE WINS! So we aren’t sure… but the amazing thing is, we took 1st and 2nd… call it a tie… team Ixion just crushed the September 12th 40 miler. BOOM!
All in all, a fun trip. Granted, the room was disgusting, granted we weren’t super intelligent the night before, granted the event could have been run much better, but you know what, that’s life… and without the bumps, the experience wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilling.
TOTAL MONEY RAISED!
(drum roll please)
About $1200 for the National MS Society – Mission Accomplished!
(proof)
