194: EF You Ken.

after a bottle of this:

and a hot bath:

(Monkey made me put bubbles over my junk... "no one needs to see that little thing...")

I'm feeling a little extra liberated tonight. Sorry Ken, you get the F- you. While I respect what you do, and your vision, even if I don't "heart" your style, I appreciate you.

However, during the Carlisle Classic, as I was turning myself inside you as you stood and announced the race, I heard our faithful announcer say over the PA, "Jeff Bohnson, young Jeff Bohnson how old is he? We could ask Faticus who trains will him, Faticus always has something to say..."

there was no response, as I was killing myself, trying for another shot at a top 10 result. I couldn't spare the energy to utter a thing.

"I guess Faticus doesn't have anything to say." Ken responded.

I swear, if I had one extra once of energy, if I had one cell in my body that wasn't trying to unsuccessfully reel in Dr. Mudd, I would have let you know that you were number one, and perhaps shouted a big fat "fuck you!" But I just couldn't get it out, between hyperventilated breaths.

But in my head, trust me, you got the big "f- you Ken."

This weekend was the MAC final. For all intents and purposes, this was the end of my cross season. My team director, who I love and am incredibly proud to ride for, has asked me to race next weekend, so I will, but it might be pretty ugly. Regardless, it was a good weekend, my results weren't as strong as I hoped, I left a goal on the board for sure, but I think my results were strong enough to land me in 10th overall for the season.

Carl Shackler might have total consciousness waiting for him on his death bed, but I have two consecutive years of top 10 in the MAC. Yeah, I kinda got jipped.

here are some additional thoughts from the weekend, you know besides from giving our announcer the big fuck you:

So this weekend I got to ride in the crafter with Tom. This is the pimpest cross machine every. Both days we set up, carried all out bikes, and got dressed in the warmth of the crafter's excellence. It was pretty awesome. Tom has a killer GPS that we used to get to the races both days. Normally, I just like to follow the directions, but we used the GPS, I won't really comment on our trip to Allentown Saturday. But I digress, Saturday I drove home from Carlisle. The GPS, which is set to French for language, as L-Web and Jeb just got home from France kept spurting out stuff to me. Jeb and L-Web have assured me that it was just giving me directions, but I swear it was saying:

Faticus is a douche.

Faticus is a douche.

Faticus is a douche.

When I freaked out and said, "fuck you GPS!" Tom had to talk me down. I guess that was pretty funny. Work has been really stressful this week, can you tell? I kind have a "eff you" theme going for sure...

Saturday night Monkey and I met Rotten Rob, Buddy the Keg breaker, Rachael at homegrown in town. The waiter came to the table and asked if we were waiting for one more. I pipe in, " Well, we had a sixth, but Rob's girlfriend dumped him on the way to dinner, can you believe that?"

Rob, caught a little off guard, you know because he didn't have a girlfriend, and I kinda made the entire thing up on a whim, we just rolled on with it, "yeah, can you believe that? I'm gonna need a beer pretty quickly..." Our waiter gave some sympathy," I'm really sorry man..."

Needless to say, our drinks rolled back to the table faster than ever. Can you say sympathy drink. Rotten was sure to look glum every time the waiter came by... Dinner was outstanding, and Robert did ask for the hostesses number at the end of the night... (totally a joke)

After my race at Reston, I rolled back to the car with the feeling of satisfaction that I had really given my best and left everything out on the course, but also with the feeling that sadly it wasn't good enough, I found a wonderful bag of cookies.

Kim, who I am a big fan of, had left me nice big bag of cookies. She thanked me for cheering for her, and wished Monkey and I a great holiday. You know, pretty damn quickly I went from feeling inadequate to the the luckiest guy in the world.

Yup, the cookies were that good. I Faticus, proceeded to eat almost the entire bag. I did give two to Tom, he really loves cookies, even more than big red teddy bears.

Thanks Kim, you made my day, and reminded me again, that this glorified beer league softball thing we do called cyclocross is less about result, and more about the experience, and more about the relationships we build in this game. That and your cookies totally kicked ass.

thanks.

Good luck to those racing Nationals, I know you will represent us all well, and to those staying home, drink lots, eat more, and have tons of fun. I love cross.

respect.

faticus