I'm like a little kid on Christmas Eve. I can hardly wait. And like the real Christmas, it probably sounds all warm and romantic to you. But at real Christmas-time, the elves are probably pissy as hell by the 24th - behind the scenes stuff you would never want to see. And around here, things are about to come un-glued. It's a big family weekend on Patty's side. Everybody's in town. And while I'm trying to strike a balance and do what I can, I'm bailing on a bunch of stuff, out of necessity. Nobody, and I mean nobody, understands why I am doing this ride. So I'm somewhere between a lunatic and a royal bastard. The only thing that surprises me is that they are just now figuring that out.
Patty's been a saint - she's trying hard to understand and doing the best she can to make excuses for me. It will all work out. It's not like I've never begged her family for forgiveness. But I'm locked in on this - I've done a lot of work and I'm just about ready. I'm going riding.
New pads for the occasion. Despite Glen's recommendation, I'm going with the salmon Kool Stops. Glen has forgotten 1000 times more than I will ever know. Ignoring his advice makes me an idiot. But I've always wanted to try Kool Stops.
New bar tape for the occasion. If I can get the moonlight to hit it just right, I'll be showing up on Sunday morning with a tanned face.
If tonight is any indication, we'll have lots of natural light.
Damn the weight . . . I'm packing a spare.
No mountain shoes I own would get me anywhere near 100 miles without subjecting me to pure torture so I did splurge on some new heat-moldable shoes. I hope me feet be singing happy songs come Sunday morning.
If you never hear from me again just know that I died doing something I love. But I'll probably survive which means you'll be subjected to some mobile posts or possibly a boring, long-ass trip report.