Where is Woody?

PCR blog followers, bikers, fellow PCRs (are there any left?), lend me your eyes;

We are posting this prologue as a final testament of the burial of any illusion that Woody, aka BIG MAN, is or ever was a dedicated member of the PCRs (okay, none of us really is anymore), not to sing any praises of him (not that there was ever anything praiseworthy about him, other than the speed with which the man can disseminate un-newsworthy information to a bunch of people who really don’t care about what he has written); The pain and suffering inflicted by Woody’s incessant blather lives long after the death of that illusion.  (Woody, in case you did not notice the forgoing is a rip-off of a portion of Marc Antony’s eulogy of Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar).

This morning a small corps of members of the PCRs left at 6:00 a.m. (Prez Hale got rolling just a few minutes late) and rode to the tops of Little Cottonwood Canyon and Little Mountain.  Woody was nowhere to be seen.  Apparently he returned from a trip at 10:00 p.m. the night before and 6:00 a.m. interfered with his beauty rest (Woody, your youthful looks have long since past; rest will not restore them). 

Even though we could not see Woody chasing a bevy of biking beauties or chattering with local convenience store attendants, as Shakespeare astutely observed, Woody’s ill habits live on without him.  For example, Mr. MBA, wanting to show us his astute business acumen, so he spent countless hours prattling on about how he went to Contender bike shop to buy some Scratch (a tasty and nutritious powered form drink mix specifically designed for cyclist that Prez Hale recommended to him) and found out how much it cost, how many drink bottles it would fill and concluded that it costs 1 buck a bottle: about the price of a bottle of Coke.  So, he concluded, it was not a “good deal” and did not buy it.  Here is a news flash Mr. MBA: don’t be surprised if you are not awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics for your profound discovery requiring first grade math.  And then the group had to wait for Prez’s seemingly countless hours chatting with other bikers along the way ( Prez Hale learned well from Woody that visiting with others allows you to slow down and catch your breath).  Only Bruner, aka, the “Animal” seemed impervious to the ill side effects of “hanging” with Woody.  The Animal kept the group members focused (as much as they are capable of such behavior) and panting to try and keep up with him.

The group did not suffer from two additional ill side effects from over exposure to Woody.  First, there is only one photograph for the blog (instead of the countless blur of seemingly endless photos, almost all of which he is the focus).  And second, we arrived home before 8:00 p.m.  So perhaps Shakespeare was not correct after all, but then there is still far more time for the group to be exposed to Woody’s evil ways.  We missed you Woody, but we talked about you the entire ride.  Be on the lookout for him.  He is armed with a camera and a gift for the gab.  Nevertheless we hope to see (not hear) you on the next ride.

TATS = Training for LOTOJA sucks, especially when you are not riding LOTOJA. 

by Mr. MBA 

YIPPY SKIPPY

Tip of the Week = What's A Recovery Ride And Can It Make You Faster?

Without Woody, the ride loses its "focus"