Breck Epic Stage #5, Wheeler Pass Loop

18 08 2011

” . . . if you’re reading this, you faced the rabid Aqueduct stage down, met its stare and made it look away.  You stood your ground. Well this old bitch has one more card up her sleeve, one more knife in her boot and one more cruel sucker punch to throw before she’ll kneel before you.  And its name is Wheeler.”

-Mike Mac, Breck Epic 2011

12,460' of hell

Loam.  As defined by Merriam-Webster:  a soil consisting of a friable mixture of varying proportions of clay, silt, and sand.  Loamy, the adjective of Loam.  Mike Mac uses this word to describe the ridiculously fun sections of the Breck Epic, particularly, of the Colorado trail.  While somewhat ambiguous and non-specific in isolation, Loamy takes on an understood meaning of fantasticness when used in the context of mountain biking singletrack.  Loamy means smooth.  Loamy means buttery.  Loamy means I can rip through a strip of dirt with reckless, joyful abandon.  The back side of Wheeler Pass . . . is not that.  But we’ll get back to the descent.

We started the day on the other side of Breck, the West side, where the ski slopes are.  The day before I had told Tim and Johs (men’s duo open category leaders) that the start was not at the same place as before.  I didn’t really know exactly where it was, but I joked that I thought it was probably in Como (21 miles due East).  As we lined up at the start, I didn’t see the mint green jerseys of the pair, and I actually panicked a little.  They didn’t think I was serious, did they?  Turns out, they were wearing vests, which covered their jerseys.  I felt better that we could all continue our journey up Wheeler with our usual routine of being crushed to little pieces by their riding superiority.

Yesterday was a hard day for me.  But after a good nights sleep, I felt the pep in my legs again.  Chris, Dan, Ken and I started the day together, but the Clydesdale leader had gotten a jump on us, so I went ahead with Ken to try to pull him back within striking distance.  The goal was to beat Huntsley (Big Boy Leader) to the singletrack hike-a-bike, since no one can walk faster than Ken.  We were able to catch him and sneak Ken in front of him just in time.  Ken made good on his plan, and was able to gain a couple minutes gap, just by walking.

Wheeler Pass Elevation Profile

The Wheeler Pass stage has been my least favorite stage in the previous years of the Breck Epic.  The giant, lava-topped, steaming mound of crap on the elevation profile is the obvious reason why.  The top of the profile is shaped like the horns of a devil.  That’s no coincidence.  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mind climbing to elevation.  As long as I can do it on my bike.  But the trail at about 7 miles is a narrow, rocky goat path.  It’s unridable by folks like me, and it’s even difficult to walk.  The line of riders (walkers) stretches out before you for over a mile, so you can see the agony before you, and know that it ain’t over yet.  When the 12,460 feet of elevation robs your brain of oxygen and willpower, the only thing you can think about is where the best place to sit down would be. But there’s no f*cking place to sit!  On your right is a wall.  On your left is a cliff.  So you just keep putting one foot in front of the other until you look down and see all those tiny little ants walking their bikes below you. And then you feel a little better. But not much.

Dicky leading the other tiny ants up Wheeler

Last year, the descent of Wheeler chewed me up and spit me out.  Then it chewed me up again.  With my shock blown on day two, I had a rigid fork.  My trusty 1996 singlespeed Bontrager, while a great climber, was no match for Wheeler’s back side.  Every babyhead and rut jarred me to the bones, and I felt like a beginner just trying to survive.  But this year was different.  Walt Wehner, of Waltworks, built me a luscious, steel 29er hardtail.  It doesn’t just climb, it descends.  This year, with a new weapon in hand, I was able to float over the rough terrain and pick off lots of folks on the way down to Copper.

Ken had gotten well ahead of me on the hike-a-bike, but I thought I could catch him on the descent from Wheeler and then the path to Frisco.  I dropped into my imaginary aero bars and time-trialed it.  I was on my bell pretty much the whole way since the path is littered with walkers, casual bikers, and dogs.  I looked back to make sure Huntsley wasn’t on my wheel.  He wasn’t.  So I just kept on the pedals thinking I would see Ken soon. No dice.  He was already on the Peaks trail by the time I got to Aid #3 in Frisco.  I backtracked a bit and met up with Dan and Chris on their way down from Copper.  I knew from years past that you can’t blow up on the time trial section between Copper and Frisco.  The Peaks Trail awaits, and it is deceptively testy.  The rooty trail is punctuated with steep, leg-burning kickers, which just keep on coming.  It didn’t help that I kept yelling back, “This is the last climb!” when yet another one would present itself.  So I started yelling, “Just twelve more to go!”  That didn’t go over well either.

Big Johnson: A post-race sandwich consisting of wheat bread, peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, Nutella, bananas, and potato chips.  Named after Tim Johnson (see post from stage 3).  I’m told that he asked for this creation after he and Johs finished the stage today (45 minutes before us).   The Big Johnson was every bit as killer as it’s namesake.  If Tim wasn’t hero status before then, he is now.  I considered adding a pickle and calling it the Big Wu.  But it doesn’t have the same ring, and I’m not so sure it would taste that good.

Glad to have Wheeler out of the way.  It’s been the soul-crusher for me in the past, so I feel like I exorcised some demons today.  Tomorrow is the Gold Dust Stage.  Shorter and funner.  It’s a good way to end the Epic.  I hope we can all stay together tomorrow because it would be great to finish together.





Breck Epic Stage #4, the Keystone Loop (a.k.a. the Aqueduct)

17 08 2011

Breck epic Stage 4 elevation profile

Day 4 of the Breck Epic, the Aqueduct stage.  I remembered very little about this stage from last year.  I think I know why.  The climbs were long and hard.  I spent more time in granny gear today than any other time that I can remember, and I could still barely turn the cranks over.  Last year, I rode it singlespeed, which means that I was walking a bunch of the steep climbs today.  So it really wasn’t a memory that I chose to retain.

Once again, we all lined up at the back of the pack, which is mostly a product of getting there after everyone else.  We could go up to the front with the call up, but then we’d just get passed by a hundred folks.  After the neutral start we headed up Heinous Hill again. It wasn’t any less steep this time.  There’s something about putting that climb in the beginning that just crushes my spirit.

As predicted, Chris and Dan are getting stronger, and I’m getting . . . sleepier.   The pep I had in my legs from yesterday was nowhere to be found today.  But even worse, was the strange, overwhelming desire to take a nap right in the middle of the trail.  On the non-technical sections, I actually closed my eyes for a bit to try to catch a few seconds of rest.  I spent most of my time today wondering how I could get some caffeine, or meth, or crack, or something to wake me up.   Perhaps I should go to bed earlier instead of blogging.

But back to the course. Heinous Hill was, unfortunately, not the hardest climb today.  There were a couple harder hills that came later.  One of which was appropriately named Vomit Hill (that little pointy bastard starting at around mile 12).  Chris and Dan made a smart, conscious decision to dismount and walk up.  I thought the climb might wake me up, so I stayed in the saddle and kept on going.  At some point, I realized how stupid it was to bury my legs, but then I noticed Katie Lindquist (Kent Eriksen’s boss) still on her bike, and passing all kinds of folks.  So I kept going.  Pride is a silly thing.

The biggest climb of the day wasn’t the steepest, but it did last a long, long time.  2000′ up the side of Keystone mountain.  Before getting to this climb, the trail snakes it’s way over a large water conduit.  Hence the nickname of the stage, the Aqueduct.   There is a rickety wooden path built alongside of the Aqueduct that I considered riding, but then chickened out.  At this point, you are really close to Aid #2 at around 18 miles.  But before you get there, you have to cross over a bridge.  The bridge is even more decayed than the scaffolding next to the Aqueduct.  It’s about 18 inches wide, so plenty wide enough.  I really wanted to ride it, but once again, fear overcame ego.  As I stepped off the bridge on the other side, I noticed that there were a couple folks with cameras in hand.  They had clearly staked out this spot to capture images of riders, who actually had the balls to ride the bridge.  Their cameras were down by their sides, and the look of disappointment was unbearable.  I almost turned around to do the bridge again, but I knew two things.  One, that would be stupid.  And two, I’m still a pansy, and I’d just walk across the bridge a second time.

Though the climb up Keystone was tedious, the descent on the Colorado Trail was screamin’ fast and fun.  Like day #2 ( Colorado Trail Stage), this section of the CT was buff and twisty, but in all the right ways.  After this descent, the rest of the stage was not so enjoyable.  After Aid #3 the trail turns skyward in a cruel and unapologetic way.  The profile doesn’t really do it justice.  It feels like it’s vertical, at least after you’ve put 35 hard miles in already.  Remarkably Dan, Chris, and I managed to stay on our bikes for the climb, and we limped home, tired and beat.  We came in at around 5 hours. 52 minutes behind the leaders, Tim and Johs.  There’s no stopping us now from snatching that second place podium spot from the jaws of victory.  Ken had a decent day, but the Clydesdale leader had a better one.  But a lot can still happen.

Tomorrow is Wheeler Pass. This has been my least favorite stage in previous years.  Though the view from the top is the best in Summit County, the hike-a-bike goat trail to get there makes it hard to appreciate.  More on that tomorrow.





Breck Epic Guest Post: The View From Behind

17 08 2011

“If you ain’t the lead dog, the view never changes”

This week at the Epic, I’m learning firsthand how true that is.  This is what I see for 5 hours a day, framed by beautiful Colorado scenery and singletrack.

Jeff is just hammering this race.  I’d feel bad about holding him up, except that we’re firmly seated in second place, behind a team of guys: one of whom, despite two flat tires, finished just 45 min off of Lance Armstrong’s winning Leadville 100 time.  They consistently put 45 min to an hour on us each day, despite my suffering like an Iditarod sled dog.

I actually thought I was in pretty good shape this year.  Looking back, I guess you could describe my regimen as “scared straight, sloth hard.  I was scared straight by the beat down I sustained at the Firecracker 50 in July.  So much so, that I started riding to and from work – 3.5 hours round trip- for 2 weeks.  I then raced the 70 mile Laramie Enduro, feeling great , but ignoring the inner voices telling me that the reason I felt great was that the course was pretty flat and fast.  My “sloth taper” was the week before the Epic, living as a bachelor on frozen pizza, beer, and ice cream.  I did ride to the mailbox once, to give the dog some exercise.

Jeff is right about my breathing – it is pretty loud.  I don’t know when, or even why I became a panter.  Trying to stifle it only makes me pass out.  Jeff is really tolerant, though.  Much more so than my wife, who won’t even sit next to me in spinning class anymore.  We have a rule about the panting, Jeff and I.  If it stops abruptly, he’s to turn around and either start CPR or pull me out of the ditch.

So the view from behind ain’t all that great, but at least Jeff’s propensity to, shall we say, emit methane, seems to be taking a vacation.

Dan.  Whipped after Stage 4





Breck Epic Stage #3, Mount Guyot

16 08 2011

Not last place!

42 miles and 9400′ of climbing.  Today was stage #3, Mount Guyot.  We started again on lower Washington.  Unlike yesterday, Dan and I started toward the back with the intention of saving ourselves for the big climbs ahead.  Ken got a bug in his ass and shot off the front, never to be seen again.  Chris had the same agenda as us and hung back.  After feeling worked yesterday, I wasn’t sure of what to expect today.  But my legs felt stronger, and I found a rhythm early on that felt comfortable.

After climbing Little French Flume, we descended the nastified scree field of Little French Gulch that we climbed on day #1.  The devastation caused by the floods was again evident as most of the riders in our group walked the deep rocky ravines left by the torrents of rushing water.  But Dan and I made it down safely to aid 1, where I shoved a jacket into Dan’s jersey pocket like an over-dotting (sp?) mother.  Last time I was on Guyot, you couldn’t see more than 20 feet in front of you, and the cold heavy mist penetrated right to the core.  I remember climbing and then descending Guyot with tears and snot streaming down my face.  So this time, I made sure we had jackets.  And of course, it was blazing hot.

Mount Guyot elevation profile

There are 4 big climbs in the stage. The second one (yes, the pointy one that looks like a red hot poker) is over French Pass, and goes over Mount Guyot, for which the stage is named. That climb is, for lack a of a better description, a bitch.  The trail gradually gets steeper and rockier.  It sneaks up on you.  You can’t figure out why it hurts so bad, but somehow it does.  Just at the moment you think it can’t get any worse, you look up and see a line of riders a half mile long, walking their bikes.  Really?

I pushed my bike like everyone else, and thanked my lucky stars when I finally reached the top.  The views were stunning, even with my oxygen deprived point of view.  As I reached the top, I heard someone say, “Look at his bike, and see how he did it.”   I was aware that someone was following me, trying to look at my bike.

Turns out that another rider had snapped his chain and a group of folks had gathered around to try to fix it.  Dan was a bit behind, so I laid down my bike to see if I could help.  They were trying to put the chain back on, but they had somehow routed the chain backwards through the derailleur. It was an easy fix, and when I was ready to put the chain back together, they handed me half a Powerlink.  The other half had fallen into the grass.  As the group frantically combed the area for the missing piece, Dan crested the top. He had seen the commotion and thought I was doing CPR.  The missing half was miraculously found, and we were headed back down to traverse the snow field.  Mike Mac says it’s like a “clown on rollerskates”, and that turned out to be accurate description of what I looked and felt like trying to get across the slushy slope.

As I navigated the snow, I heard a distant “Wooooooo!” Chris had clawed his way up Guyot and caught us at the top.  The three of us descended the the back side and ended up staying together for the rest of the ride.  When you are out there for 5 hours, it’s nice to have extra company.

Peter's descent of Mount Guyot

The back side of Guyot has a notoriously scary descent.  The first year of the Breck Epic, I unwittingly dropped into it, not knowing that it was supposed to be that scary.  After I got to the bottom, I decided that I would never ride that again.  I’ve made good on that promise ever since.  To read more about that nasty descent, read Peter’s (of Misfit Psycles) blog post  from last year.  Seriously, read it.  It’s way more interesting than this long-winded post.

After descending Guyot, Georgia Pass awaits. The grade isn’t awful, but it goes on forever.  The backside is rooty and rocky, East coast style riding.  Just when you think the ride is mostly over, you come to American Gulch.  It’s steep and long, and it finishes with an “Oh F*ck” moment as you look up and see a wall waiting for you.  By the time we got to American, the signage had been corrected by Colby Pierce, who graciously flipped the arrow back to the intended direction.  But a non-racer had, at some point last night or this morning, intentionally turned the sign to the opposite direction.  So the lead group of riders went about a mile down the wrong path before they realized something was wrong.  American Gulch is ugly enough without having to detour a mile in the wrong direction, but it was pretty amazing to watch how well the folks who were victimized by this course vandalism handled it.  They agreed to let the results stand, even to their own detriment.  Really good sports.

Tim Johnson winning the Boulder Cup

Dan, Chris, and I finished the stage in around 5 hours.  Chris took back a place in the standings.  Ken crushed it and won the stage and took about 2o minutes back in the overall standings.  He is now only 12 minutes back in the GC.  Dan and I gave up almost an hour to the lead team, which puts us about 100 hours back.  But we still have a firm grip on second place. I no longer feel so bad about it anymore.  We chatted with Tim and Johs (sp?) after the awards.  Tim is, as I’ve come to realize, Tim Johnson.  He was the cyclocross national champ in 2009.  After I thought about it, I remembered that I saw him win the Boulder Cup last year.  So yeah, he’s kinda good.  Of course, I was dumb enough to ask him in which category he was the National Champion.  Cat 4? No dufus. Pro.  I thought it would be cool to compare it to my Colorado State Championship in Men’s Sport 30-34 short track, during which I beat out an asthmatic and a leper for the title.

At various points, I thought that any one of us was going to crack, but we all held up in the end and finished together.  So it was a good day.  Keith and Adam came up from Boulder to cheer us on (you guys are studs), and they brought Slim with them so we could have a podium shot that didn’t involve us being in last place (see above pic).  Here’s Ken intimidating the overall Clydesdale leader on the podium.

Tomorrow is the Aqueduct stage.  We did this stage last year, but to be honest, I remember almost none of it.  Ken says it’s his favorite stage.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.





Breck Epic Stage #2, The Colorado Trail

16 08 2011

Stage 2 of the Epic, The Colorado Trail.  41 miles, 7300′ elevation gain. In previous years, this has been the penultimate fun stage.  This year did not disappoint.  The section of the Colorado Trail that we rode today was, as Mike Mac would say, like Ewok Planet.  Someone, who knew what they were doing and had vision, built some of the most rippin’ singletrack around.  But we’ll get back to that.

The stage started on lower Washington today instead of the Ice Rink.  Once again, I rolled out of the condo last, and in my haste, mindlessly rode up to the Ice Rink for the 8:10a start. Last year, I missed the start of this stage, and only caught a glimpse of the last rider turning the corner a few blocks up.  Had I missed that last rider, I would have missed the stage altogether since the course is unmarked at that point and it winds it’s way around the neighborhood.  Visions of a repeat this year were in my head as I hustled to the new location.  I got there with about 30 seconds to spare and lined up behind Jeff Kerkove on the outside of the starting fence.  I could see the first place duo team in front, and I had them marked.  I was determined to not lose sight of them, even if it meant burying my legs to keep up.  That plan worked great during the neutral start.  But once the police car pulled off, the dogs were unleashed.   To that point, I was well above threshold already, and was hoping that I wasn’t ruining myself or Dan, who was just behind me.

Quick side note about Dan.  He’s known among our circle of friends as “the Lung”.   Not only because he has a super-human oxygen carrying capacity, but because when he breathes during a ride, it sounds like a hurricane.  Even on moderate grades, you think he’s about to have a heart attack or an asthma attack, or some kind of attack.  But he just keeps on going, and eventually you’re left wondering how a guy that sucks wind like that can be dropping you.

We caught the last glimpse of the leaders as we hit the first big climb, Heinous Hill.  It’s aptly named.  Steep and unrelenting, it goes on and on. Did I mention it’s steep?  The duo team disappeared from view, like they teleported. Gone. Vanished.

A couple times, there were a couple mint green leaders’ jerseys pulled off to the side working out a punctured tire.  In those shameful moments of schadenfreud, it’s hard not to go “Hell yeah!”  But the afflicted teams were Jenn G. and Miles, the duo coed leaders, and Thompson/Overstreet, the 80+ leaders.  Our duo team was long gone.

Going out so hard proved to be fruitless (we still lost 40 minutes on the Cannondale guys), and detrimental.  I felt tired after burning most of my reserves early on, and I didn’t have the pep in my legs from yesterday.  Nevertheless, the course was as fun as riding your bike can get.  The brutal climbs early on culminated in fast, curvy descents.  The aforementioned section of the trail, for which the stage is named, got a little moisture yesterday, so it was sticky and fast.  The grade of the trail and the timing of the turns make for a perfect no brakes, hair on fire, throw your bike around section of trail.  The trail winds it’s way through dense forest and then shoots out onto an open meadow, from which the veiws would have been spectacular had I had a second to take my eyes off the dirt immediately in front of me.  The ride is way too fast to not pay full attention.  Being the fastest descender,  Dan led us down first.   We just tried to hang on.  He may have been having too good of a time though because we rounded a blind corner to find Dan standing next to his bike with his helmet in his hands.

Ken got to him first. “You okay? What happened?”

“I think I fell.”

“You think?”

Apparently, he got off line in a deeply cut piece of singletrack and smacked his helmet on something.  I sent Ken ahead because he had 48 minutes to make up on the Clydesdale leader.  Plus, ain’t no use in having two doctors stand around being useless.  You only need one for that.

Dan seemed shaken, but okay. At least he was conscious.  We stood there for a while waiting for him to get his bearings and straighten out his helmet.  He wanted to ride right away, so we got back on our bikes.  I led the rest of the descent at a pedestrian pace.

After the really fun descent, the rest of the course is perhaps, mm, not so fun.  Testy, rooty climbs and loose, rocky descents remained, and it was all I could do to not whine about it. But in the end, I did anyway.   We caught Ken at the top of the final climb, and he led us down to the finish.  Chris was not long behind, having finally found his legs and lungs in the altitude.  It took a few days, but he’s finally adjusting from the 300 feet elevation of Arkansas.  Chris moved up a number of places in the men’s 30-39, and Ken took back some time and stood on the top podium spot once again. Dan and I, despite riding as hard as we could, finished second, and last, again.

Tomorrow is the toughest stage of the race, The Guyot Loop.  We go above 12,000′ twice.  9400′ of climbing over 42 miles.





Breck Epic Stage #1, Pennsylvania Gulch

15 08 2011



Podium shot

Here’s a blurry pic of the podium for men’s duo open today.  We will analyze this in more detail in a bit.  But first a quick congrats to the Leadville riders who threw down yesterday.  Drew redeemed last year’s effort with an 8.30.  Stuart solidified his Leadman contention with a 9.07.  Jenn rocked a 10:40, and El Diablo went out for a 100 mile pleasure ride to save up for the run next week.  He still came in just over 11 hours.

Today was the first stage of the Breck Epic, Pennsylvania Gulch.  For those who know the Firecracker course, today’s stage covers much of that course. Ken, Chris, Dan and I joined a full field on the starting line.  Dan and I missed our call up for the men’s duo open, so we all just stayed together in the back.  The back is where I like to start.  When you start in the rear, you don’t have to worry about getting passed, as much.

As per his m.o., Ken led us out and nearly blew up the whole group going up Boreas.  I was above threshold for most of the road climb.  Instead of continuing up to Baker’s Tank, we dropped down into singletrack about mid way up.  We were able to recover some a this point, and we rode together for a while.  Once the trail started heading back up is when our group fell apart. Ken stopped to fix his screwy saddlebag, and Chris’s heart rate monitor read 206, so he eased off the throttle a bit.  Dan and I continued on, not knowing who the other open duo teams were.   We figured we just had to ride hard no matter what.

Some of the course was virtually unrecognizable compared to the last time i saw it a month ago.  Any one familiar with Little French Gulch would have thought it a different trail altogether.  A biblical storm a few weeks ago devastated the already sketchy, and notoriously difficult, trail.  All the dirt had washed away, and only large swaths of giant scree and babyheads remain.  Only a handful of folks ride Little French Gulch.  But I don’t think anyone rode it today.  It was hard enough to even hike it.

Another area that was clearly affected was the descent to Tiger Run.  I took a bad line and nearly went, as Dan would say, Ass over applebucket.  It would have been an ugly crash too.  Boulders and babyheads everywhere.  But I got lucky and got out of there shaken, but unscathed.

Overall, I felt surprisingly good today.  I didn’t know what to expect since I haven’t ridden hard since the Breck 68 a month ago. Dan’s ability to not train a lick, and still ride fast astounds me.  He also rides a 30 pound, cast iron, turn-of-the-century bike.  And he still rides fast.  We rode a pretty good race.  Each taking some turns at the front.   Ken had managed to claw his way back to us on Little French, but then a sharp rock put a 3 inch gash in his tire. A couple tire boots, tubes and a pair of pliers later he was able limp to aid #2, where the organic mechanic scored him a new tire. But he probably lost at least 45 minutes dealing with the tire.  Chris stopped with Ken and helped him get fixed up enough to get to the aid station. Needless to say, he also lost huge time dealing with the tire.   It’s a long race though, and Ken and Chris will only get stronger.

So back to the fuzzy podium spot.  The good news is that we finished second and made the podium.  The bad news is that we finished last, and made the podium.  Somehow, only two teams signed up for the open duo.  The only thing more embarrassing than standing on a podium in last place is the ridiculous outfit I’m wearing.  Who let me out of the house like that?

One of the guys on the other team is a National cyclocross champion.   The good news is that we were only 12 minutes behind them today.  The bad news is that they rode Leadville yesterday in 7.02.  So this was their recovery day.  Dan suggested that we have someone bring up Slim (the Alchemist Mannequin) to stand on the third place spot, so we wouldn’t have to stand on the podium in last place.

Check out the sweet photos from Drew:





Leadville Trail 100 and Breck Epic

13 08 2011

Before I hit the sack, just a quick shout to Stuart, Jenn, Jeff C., and Drew.  The y rode the Leadville 100 today.  Waiting for the race report.

Tomorrow begins the Breck Epic for Dan, Ken, Chris and myself.  Stage #1. Pennsylvania Gulch.  I’ll try to shoot some vid, but no guarantees.  Might do some post-race interviews.  Need some rest though, so more tomorrow.

 





Ciliadynia, Code Brown, and Kees!

6 08 2011

Seeing a lady who hurts so bad that she tells me her eyelashes hurt. I couldn’t find the medical term to describe pain in the eyelashes, so I created one: Ciliadynia. It’s so new, you won’t even find it in the Urban Dictionary.

Whilst I languished in the room with this one, I noticed a couple nurses running by in gloves and yellow gowns. Surely, there was a real emergency that needed my immediate attention. I excused myself from the room, and headed toward all the commotion. I turned to the security guard on my way to the ambulance bay.

“What’s going on?”

“Ambulance brought in a drunk.”

“So?”

“He pooped himself.”

In medical circles, this is known as a Code Brown.  I’ve had years of experience dealing with Code Brown with my kids.  But dealing with a drunken adult man who shat himself is best left for the real experts.

Kees representing in the Netherlands

On a funner note, Kees sent us this pic from the Netherlands.  He’s rockin’ the Alchemist Team Kit and spreading the love.  Thanks for the props, Kees!  And, uh, sorry to put you in the same blog post as the Code Brown.








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