You bet indeed… During the last installment, we’d just finished up in Beaver Creek, Colorado as Janier Alexis Acevedo had put the smack down on everybody in the Pro Challenge’s fourth stage. Or maybe it was the fifth stage…. I can’t actually remember at this point.
The elevation and the carousing have lead to a swift undoing of me.
I’d like to show photos of the amazing trail run I had while Beaver Creek, where I coined the term ‘dirtbag trail running’, which basically consists of going out in whatever clothes you happen to be wearing, which would lead any casual observers to believe you were running from the cops.
I saw amazing vistas and sweet little sleepy foxes, none of which I took pictures of because my camera was not where I was.
In light of that, we’ll simply continue from Beaver Creek’s departure.
Time was getting away from us and before my traveling companion Roger and I broke camp for Vail and the day’s time trial, I snapped a quick shot of a pile of papers laying on the bed;
He’s got something brewing.
For those not familiar with Colorado’s geography, Vail is a short stone’s throw from Beaver Creek, so we hopped over our new digs, dropped our stuff, and I parted ways with my companions to pay a visit to this guy;
His name is Michael, and along with his partner Eric Wuppermann, (who if you’re a food nerd is apparently some kinda superstar, mega baller), together they opened a restaurant in West Vail called Yellowbelly Chicken, with another set to open in Boulder wheretheytakecyclocrossseriously in the coming weeks.
Unfortunately I am not a food nerd, but I know what I like, and in fact, I liked what I ate there so much, I did twice in a single day. Ifin you reside on the Front Range, and you enjoy filling your face with goodness, keep your eyes peeled for this restaurant.
Tell them I sent you and probably nothing will happen.
The TT was about to begin, so with my belly full of yellow, I turned tail and skedaddled to the start where I shot 1000 photos, one of which wasn’t horrible;
As it turns out, I have no idea who this was because at this point, I was simply trying to get anyone within the shot.
He’s real fast.
Of course, who cares about that? You can read about the race on a bikecycle website.
You wanna know about the meeting up with some friends and going bowling at this place;
Obviously is called ‘Bōl ‘, and it might be one of the most pretentious places I’ve even been.
If you’ve ever had the pleasure of flying aboard Virgin Airlines, it was like that, but with more beautiful people. Seriously… I wanted to sleep with like, 98% of the people in the room, which is up 97% from an average bowling alley.
Bailing out of there with a multi-hundred dollar bill, we opted for a few more drinks at a local’s joint, where I met a girl who sounded like Fran Drescher, but with a higher pitched voice, and very nearly inspired me to dig my own ears out of my head with a rusty spoon. It was then I realized it was high time to melt into the darkness.
Of course no darkness-melting can ever occur without getting shaken down by the cops, and one young blond sociopath who had it out for me in particular. I suppose I could go into detail about the sordid events but the short version is that the Vail P.D. can eat a mile of dick. It’s been thirteen years since I vowed never to set foot in that retched town again, and it will hopefully will be at least twice that many before I fool-heartedly repeat that vow.
After sleeping for a full ninety minutes, we were on the road again, en route to Ft. Collins and the conclusion of stage six, which promised to make or break the G.C.
At the top of the final hill they call Bingham, we gave out gallons of beer and acted a fool to the nth degree;
Finally after a whole lotta hours of waiting, the lead group motored past, and I captured what is possibly the finest bit of race photography ever known to the history of both man and womankind;
After the racerings passed by, we still had a slew of New Belgium Beererey cruiser bikes to hand out to lucky winners of whatever contest team leader Michael Bussmann conceived of, most of which involved a basketball;
-And some very happy winners.
We loaded up the whip, said goodbye to new and old friends, and kicked ourselves to the New Belgium headquarters where a gigantic bash was already in full swing.
While the commoners got the basic tour, I got the super secret V.I.P. tour to the tops of the tanks with Melyssa and Todd;
After taking in the view, and sampling some of New Belgium’s craft, news came down that Cannondale’s Peter Sagan punched a hole in the sky with a punishing win over Argos-Shimano’s Luka Mezgec in second and Belglandian Greg Van Avermaet in third;
I concluded being awake for nearly 48 hours with a night cap alongside the Jelly Belly team managers, and my very dear friend and career soigneur, Larry Foss;
(Pictured here actually working and not holding up a bar stool.)
At long last I dragged myself to bed and slept the sleep of the innocent.
I’d figure around day eight.