Return Of The Son of Christmas Eve Eve

Christmas Eve Eve always sounds like some kind of sequel to a horror movie called Christmas Eve, so I took it a step or two further with that title. It means nothing, but it might be a cool name for a band or something, or at least the sequel to a B movie starring Corey Feldman.

Anyway, this Christmas Eve Eve ("You better not pout, you better not...DIE!!!"... Man, this movie is practically writing itself!) I headed over to Joe's to meet him and Oliver for a 70 mile ride on a mutated version of the Saturday ride course. We headed out and picked up Pete on our way to The Lot, and after meeting up with Tony there, we would eventually collect John Payne, Ed Baumgartner, and Rob Cook along the way. My training plan called for a 3-4 hour endurance ride today. I knew riding with these guys would probably be a little harder than what was prescribed, but how could I resist Joe's sultry Barry White voice in my head saying, "Go hard or go home?" You have to go into riding with Joe, as well as the rest of this crew, like you would go into a night of drinking heavily: Just try to have fun, try not to vomit, and don't go to sleep with Bo Derek, but wake up with Bo Diddley. Okay, that last one is not really a concern for this ride, but on the Sunday ride with Paul where the MILFs are aplenty... well... just be careful out there, that's all.

If there was ever a strong, steady group ride, this was it. We had a smooth rotation going in the paceline as we stormed through the rain dampened and earthworm infested roads of Moseley on an unseasonably warm (mid-50's at the start) December morning. Oliver's calves glistened like the drumsticks of a rotisserie chicken as he helped keep the pace high, Joe and Tony tried to remember the lyrics to Dominick The Italian Christmas Donkey as they pulled through, and I tried to avoid blowing snot all over the shoulders of my jersey while attempting the always challenging snot rocket (fail).

Sidenote: I have never known anyone as proficient at the snot rocket as Jon Martinez. For one, the guy must have a runny nose year round, because even on the hottest day of the year, he's out there shooting snot from his nose like a sniper. He never misses, he never hits the guy behind him, and he could dot the "i" on a speed limit sign from 50 paces, easily.

As we rolled along, Rob, Pete, John, and Ed would each peel off at one point or another, leaving Oliver, Joe, Tony, and me taking short pulls at the front to finish the ride. A 4-man paceline when you have fifty or so hard miles in your legs does not provide the very thing you need: recovery. We didn't pay attention to that though. We were tired, we were sore, we wanted to stop, but we were cooking, and when you're cooking, you don't stop. As Joe put it, [our] legs were toast, but they weren't quite burnt toast. All I could think was, "mmmmm....toast"

We cruised along, past Mark Connoly doing one-legged drills on Duval Rd., and looking like a dog cocking his leg to pee from a bike as we rolled on and through Brandermill. Tony broke off at The Lot and as Oliver, Joe, and I cooled down towards the end of the ride, we were in full agreement that this was a GREAT ride. It was hard, it was fast, it was a beautiful day with some bad ass mofos on bikes, and most importantly, it was over.

Thanks to everyone for an awesome ride.

Lots of earthworms were harmed in the making of this blog. I'll write that part into the script of Christmas Eve Eve. The part of Joe will be played by Lou Ferrigno. I smell an Oscar!!!