Wakey Wakey Mr. Lion

Some events of the last few weeks have reminded me of something important.  Before I continue, I would like to offer my humblest apologies to all of the local, strike that, regional cyclists.  I know you've been training well and seeing good results.  I know that you have hopes that this will be your breakout year.  I know that even some of you have gone so far as to join Lincoln Plating 2.0.  Not to rain on your parade or anything, but you may as well quit now because no matter what you do, you will find yourself coming up short this year.

And it's all my fault.  Well, maybe some of the blame is Boomer's.  If Boomer had not told me about Strava, I would not have started training in earnest this year.  And fuck*, I've gotten better.  I mean, I'm seeing some outstanding numbers.  Look out.

Recently, I took a test drive on a plastic bike from Olympia.  I'd never been on one before.  It is 1000g lighter than my Cannondale.  Wow.  I was climbing hills in big gears and just laughing and laughing at how easy it was.

So now, I can imagine you saying, "Uh, whatever Cube, actions, words, etc."  And that's fair, but it's not what I'm talking about.  Most of you are too young to have seen me race and I'm going to admit something now that I've never admitted before.  Up until 2006, I was always a smoker when I raced.  In 2007 I was in my best form and I could keep up with the front of the (cat 4) group with ease. Now?  Oh yeah.  I'm stronger than that.  A lot stronger.

But that's not what I'm talking about.  I'm not your problem.  I'm just the source of it.  Well maybe some of the blame is Boomer's and some of the blame is Brady's.  But most of it is squarely on my shoulders because without me putting in the actual work, the Lion would have stayed blissfully asleep, leaving all of you pretenders to think you actually have some talent on the bike.  Well sorry.  Truly.  For bursting that bubble.

Mr Lion has been asleep for a while.  Mr Lion was tired.  From time to time over the past few years, he'd briefly wake up, look around, shake out his long golden mane, eat an antelope and roll over and go back to sleep.  This last time he went to sleep, most of you said it was for good.  Most of you thought, "That's nice.  Can I get back to training now?"  Most of you except Shim.  Shim is one of the first who ever found out what it meant to wake the lion.  Shim made the tactical error of pointing out that if you're going to be a lion,  you should not ride on the bike seat of a lioness.

What am I talking about, you ask?  How the fuck™ should I know?

As I've discussed earlier somewhere on this blog, Shim's quip incensed the Lion so much, he was forced to reveal his true power.

I first met Munson after he won a cat 5 time trial.  I went up to congratulate him and I could not believe the person I met.  He was truly humble.  He was so nice, I was shocked.  I was a cat nothing at the time, but I thought of all cyclists as snobby leg shaved freaks.  I'd been ceremoniously belittled in bike shops around Omaha my whole life.  I was never part of the "in" crowd, and the bike snob can be real intimidating.  Going up to Munson to congratulate him on his win, I expected to get some sort of brush off.  But I still wanted to meet the winner of the race I'd just came in 11th or 12th or whatever it was.

Munson was there saying stuff like, "Oh cool.  Yeah, we should totally go for a ride sometime"

I was floored.  I had only met one other person as nice as Munson my whole life (until I met his parents, and wanted to be adopted), and that was my mom.

The survival thing in my brain doesn't believe people that are that nice exist.  The nicer someone is, the less I trust them.  That's why I have absolute unwavering trust in anything Shim says or does.

So over the years I've realize that the purest form of evil is manifest in the physical form of Munson.  When I decided to get back on the bike again (this time personal), I decided to try to bring Munson with me.  I think the first time I tried it went something like this:

So we went on this ride.  Munson was finally there.  And I was really proud of myself.  It was my doing.  Now as long as nothing happens ...

So we decide to take the icy trail and about 14 seconds later, a dozen or so cyclists, including Munson go down on a rather slick patch.  Munson is laying there.  Not moving.  We are not sure if he'll be alright.  I learned one thing that day.  Munson likes to talk about his coccyx.  Even though he had fallen hard and was in obvious pain and was about 25 feet from his house, he got back on the bike and did the whole ride.  "somebody please hit the snooze button,"  yawned The Lion.

Well now I felt bad.  I mean even though I hadn't pushed Munson to the ground (I swear), I had encouraged him to unretire.  So I decided to leave him alone.  If he wanted to come back out, he would.

And he came out.  Sort of.  He decided to go out on a fun ride.  For those of you who may not know this, some people think riding a bike is about "fun".  These people go to great lengths to have this "fun" when they go on bike rides.  I am not one of those people and neither is Munson.  I am one who finds that the more pain in my legs, the more blood taste in my throat, the quieter the demon voices in my head.  Since the fun ride was leaving same time/place as the exorcist hill ride, I figured it was time to poke the Lion with a stick.

So then he went on the fun ride.  And I mean fun.

Seriously.  At this point, I'd be stabbing my thighs with a butter knife in an attempt to drive Lucifer's horde from my skull.

And I know for a fact, the voices are louder in Munson's head.  That smile you see.  That's the same one he used to flash as he'd pass you around a corner in a crit at 45KPH.

But did I learn from any of this?  Yes I did, really.  Until Brady reminded me to bug Munson again.

What was that Munson?  Dangit?!?  Step back people.  He's hit snooze for the final time.

And that brings us to last week.  One last show of bravado from me.  But I'm starting to get nervous.  Everyone be really nice to Munson or prepare to deal with the business end of his newly cleaned guns.

So he did not respond to this.  He claimed he never saw it.  What he did was just showed up on the ride.  He and I made an agreement that we'd turn around and ride back from Glenwood together.  While we were on our way to Glenwood making the deal, Brady decided to do a little Lion nudging himself.  For quite a while now, Brady's been asking Munson when he'd return a CD Brady loaned to him.  Munson has been saying He doesn't even remember it.  He's been tearing his house apart looking for it.  So on the climb to Glenwood, Brady says, "So Munson, can I get my Hiromi Uehara CD back?"

Then after Munson profusely apologizes for not remembering ever borrowing it and how can he make it up to Brady, Brady admits it was all a prank.

At that moment, I lose my line a little as I anticipate Munson's reaction ...

"Oh that's good," He says with relief, "Because I really cannot find it."

What?  Not "You fuckin' twatwaffle! I've been looking for that Goddamn thing for months.  Dick."

Which is the appropriate response by the way.  Well we have a good laugh at Munson's good naturedness and ride on in to Glenwood.

Then on the ride back home,  just to make sure everyone's season would be ruined 4 months hence, Spence, Brady, Spence's friend and I picked up the pace, inadvertently losing a couple of guys along the way (including Munson).  And because we're just assholes (instead of pure evil) we carried on.  I felt a twinge of guilt until I found out what Munson texted to Brady after he got home.

"Munson just texted.  He wanted us to know that he and Kevin went their own route.  He also said that was a swell ride."

But even Brady understood the pot we'd stirred, because he was able to translate Munson's message into literal:  "Reverse-Munsonated translates to 'Thanks for dropping me Mother-Fuckers'"

So yeah - we're all in big big trouble.  Just sayin'

* You're welcome for another gratuitous 'fuck'