209: weird fishes

Sweet Johnny saved my life.

Following my race Sunday, after some chest bumping, high fives and other assorted tom foolery, as the boys and girls in Black were enjoying a pretty nice day, I proceeded to pack up my toaster for the ride home. Downside is this, I left my trainer over at the C3 compound. It ‘s a brand new trainer, that my wife is very fond of. I realized this after I had been driving 20 minutes away from the venue. A couple of quick and panicked calls and thankfully I discovered that Sweet Johnny had rescued my stranded trainer. Thanks Sweet Johnny!

Monday evening I drove down to Baltimore to pick up said wayward trainer. I had a nice time hanging out at Joe’s Bike Shop. Following Kris and I went out for a nice dinner at a local sushi joint. I’m not usually a sushi eater. Truth is I like the stuff, but I don’t really know my way around the menu all that well. We ordered some basic stuff, and I think the only thing I had that really had fish in it was the spicy tuna roll.

The dinner was great.

It wasn’t until driving up 695 that I felt a gurgling in my stomach that caused me some alarm. As I headed up the I-95, with a bead of sweat forming on my brow, I knew I was trouble. The sign said, “16 miles until the Maryland house.” My stomach rolled some more. I felt a wave of heat come across my face. I stepped on the accelerator, and did some math in my head. 16 miles at 80 MPH , I should be there in 14 minutes or so, I can make that. I loosened my seatbelt, and my sweet hipster belt to remove any extra pressure off of my stomach.

The next sign said 7 miles… I felt sweat roll down my cheek, this is going to be close…

I saw a sign for McDonald’s. Should I exit and try to go there?
At this point it was after 9:00. I reason with myself, that they could be closed, or worse drive-thru only at this point, which would result in at best prolonging me finding a toilet, or worse case, me crapping in the bushes at the golden arches. I decided to go for broke. I can make 7 miles, which at 80 miles an hour is like 5 more minutes right?

The next blue sign said, 2 miles : left exit. “I think I’m going to make it” relieved I said to myself.

Finally, I made the exit to the Maryland house, and I rushed into the men’s room. I made it. I made my deposit if you will. Ugh, the spicy tuna roll was very tasty, but ripped through me like Sherman through Georgia…

Soon enough I was back on the road, and sure enough, there was another commotion in my belly. Not in the clear yet unfortunately. Luckily I made it home before my next mass evacuation, and the privacy and comfort of my own personal thrown.

Yikes.

Moral of the story: don’t leave your trainer at the race, it will just burn your ass.

The last DCCoD cross practice of 2008 was last night.

A much smaller crew gathered, but still a fantastic year. Brings a small tear of sadness to my eye. Of course Blair made his first practice of year, but showed up as we finished up our last effort. If you know Blair, you know that's pretty damn perfect.

We tipped the nice ladies at El Jefe even better than our normal generous tip. I wished them well and told them we'd be back the second week of August next year. They smiled, and the one gave me a hug. DCCoD is loved everywhere.

read this. Pretty fun.

respect

fatmarc