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| Hockey Boy, Stryker Guy and All Black victorious at theWAM |
Successful WAM for Minions
Where is Sharkman?
Route Adjustment this Saturday
Belo News
July 30, 2011
Galesburg, Mi - With the Sharkman putting his teeth into Shark Week and a large contingent of Minions riding for a great cause at WAM no one knew what to expect this past Saturday.
As the Gull Lake contingent rolled into Galesburg on this last Saturday in July a huge grupetto was clicking in, starting off on what would be a fantastic ride. (especially in WolfKing's mind as you will read later) As the numbers were counted off and checked twice the final tally stood at 30. How good is that? Even without their fearless leader the Minions came out in near record attendance.
The peloton turned north in anticipation of "hooking up" with Gazelle Girl, but to the groups disappointment she was a no show and the pace quickly lifted as the group anticipated the Sharkman Honorary sprint. In the end it was Squeaky who took the honors.
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| KOM |
As the Minions flew up the Col de Twin Lakes it was the first of what would be a hugely contested KOM competition. At the end of the race it was awarded to Bissell Boy, not because he won, but because he brought back his shiny new souvenir from Paris.
In typical fashion the pace was lifted through the pain cave of the Country Club Hills and Bill the Mechanic, Danimal's new minion, provided a monster pull for the group, delivering a much deserved sprint to Tow Truck as the group started the climb to M-43.
Zickman showing his fine summer form, and no he wasn't in his Garmin lingerie, was strong in winning the Bay sprint.
And now for the rest of the story or his story, this guest writer turns it over to the one and only...
Richard “WolfKing” Wolf, BeloNews Guest Contributor and Self-Aggrandizing Blowhard
After a long lonely ride, and feeling the effects of the previous nights festivities weighing heavily on my stomach, I wasted no time at the back, but rather made my way quickly into the safety zone at the head of the peloton. Ah, the sweet, sweet draft of a group...
Anyway, the first notice of the ride I had, as the oxygen had finally started to return to my brain, was on the Col d’Twin Lakes. I had intended to simply survive the climb. But Ironman Tattoo Guy made a charge and inspired the group to follow. I didn’t mind, as my HR was already maxed at the 175 mark; but, apparently one person too many said, “On your right!” I frickin hate people passing me on the right! So I charged through the group, chasing down as many hard starting climbers as I could, cresting the col in fifth place, or so, I glanced down to see 181 BPM starting back at me. Nearer to cardiac arrest than I’d like to be, I managed to latch on to Greer’s wheel and limp to the re-group point at the intersection.
Maybe due to metabolizing the last remnants of the previous night libations, or the percent of oxygen being diverted from my brain to my legs, the best I can remember about the charge past the golf course and up the Col d’Norte is that it was fast, very fast. I remember that. I remember it fast, and that I was thinking I would feel much better if I could only vomit. It was at this point I started thinking about selling my bike. Trying to add up how much I’d earn from the sale of each bike, given “fire-sale” prices for all my bikes and all cycling related gear. I figured I’d lose 75-85% of the retail of the bicycles. The tools would probably be the same, maybe a little more. But the clothes would only bring garages sale prices. It was a pipe dream, I guess. We all know I am too cheap to suffer that kind of financial loss. I came to this realization about the time I was wheeling up to C Avenue and the group queuing up in front of Fronas. I free wheeled through the intersection, sat up and started to eat a banana.
God, bananas are awesome! Bananas are wrapped in a biodegradable container. You can eat them easily on a ride. It is almost not a bona fide ride if I eat a banana. When I was younger, I used to put the stickers from the bananas on my bike’s forks. It used to be fun, and hard. I didn’t want to have identical stickers, so I would look for different growers when I bought bananas. But then, about fifteen or twenty years ago, the growers started putting marketing slogans and different logos on their fruit. Instead of taking a season to fill my forks, I could have done it in a week. But I digress...
After I finished my banana, (man bananas are awesome! See above.) I noticed the group had yet to come up behind me. I hate to say that I decided to try to solo back to the Klutch. I did make that decision, sort of anyway. It’s just that I realized almost immediately that I had not the legs for such an endeavor. So, from just past Fronas I made the decision to try and make this break succeed. Again, I hate to say that I put forth every effort to make it succeed. Not because I wasn’t giving 100%, (On a side note, I hate when people say the give 110%, or 150% or 200%. I know they mean that they “think” they work harder than others. But what I think is, but you obviously don’t know the meaning of 100% effort. Or, their idea of 100% effort is less than their ability. As for me, when I tell you I gave 100% in a sprint, it means that there was absolutely nothing else left in the tank. Not one more watt that I could have produced in order to propel myself that little bit faster. Lastly, I’d like to point out to all you people who give ANYTHING over 100%, remember that today’s 100% plus is tomorrow’s 100%. You have to be able to deliver that perceived effort over your 100%, every day! Otherwise, you are NOT delivering your promise. But I digress...) because I was, or maybe 90 or 95%. The problem wasn’t my effort level, the problem was the results that effort was achieving. I knew, before I had gone 1K, that 29 KPH was not good enough to stay clear. But, as bad as the decision was, once made, I pressed onward with the execution of that decision.
So I rode alone all the way to just prior to the G Ave sprint. They group, now whole again, ventured across G and set up for the final sprint of the day. First, somebody put a charge into the pace, then someone else. Next thing I know, my fifth or sixth position in line, seemingly perfect, started to look like a really bad idea. It was a blur, but it think it was Mike Miller’s wheel that I alternately couldn’t hang on and then would charge back onto. The invisible elastic band that was holding me tantalizingly close to the front was about to snap. I felt it; I sensed it; I dreaded it; I waited for it; and I wanted it. But, as much as I wanted to be dropped, I held on through sheer rage. As much as I would have liked to soft pedal back to the Klutch, I hate losing more.
So I hung on. Then I found myself with the front bunch as we crested the short rise at HJ Avenue. As the pace quickened, I noted Thor moving forward. As I longed to get into the fray, my gaze low due to my desperate desire to cheat the wind, I spotted a familiar little sign, an Ironman Tattoo. (
) Having seen this logo disappear on many occasions, I knew it belonged to a guy who’s wheel was worth fighting to keep. I fought myself more than anyone else, as I really wanted the pain to end. But, keep his wheel I did! As Thor made his drive to the line, Sean followed and then went around Thor’s left side. As he did, I made my move and drove along the right side. We passed a lone rider with about 50 meters to go, and as we did we were almost neck to neck to neck. I am pretty sure I got the better of the two other men, but just barely. I saw it as me, WolfKing, one, Thor two and Sean (Ironman Tattoo Guy?) three. Unless I blinked at the wrong time, I think we crossed the line within a wheel length of each other. As I alluded to earlier, I gave 100% on that sprint. There was probably only 50 meters of road on which I could have maintained the lead at that speed. As it worked out, one of them was the last meter.
The ride on le Avenue des Champs-Galesburg (as I think we should re-name the street) was greeted by a fanfare the likes of which are usually reserved for royalty, heads of state, Sharkman and national heroes. The Koffee at the Kllutch was both hot and black. But my chair was sticky and I smelled like sweat and ammonia. Ah, to the victor the spoils truly go...
Okay my apologies but thanks for letting me indulge WolfKing who truely won the final sprint in fine fashion after some outstanding work off the front by Tow Truck and Hoss.
WAM
Team Taylor and their fearless leader Iceman raised $194,000 this past weekend for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Several minions including Stryker Guy, All Black, Hockey Boy (with a solid 150 mile base going into the ride) and Wildman contributed to this sum.
Wildman reported " I had my own adventure this year. 35 miles into day one, I had a tire going flat, which I did not know about, and went into a 90-degree turn. The tire rolled, and Wildman went down. Ruined a jersey, got road rash on the knee, hip and shoulder, and broke my helmet when it hit the pavement. No one else was around me, so that was good.
Anyway, I got up, changed the tube, and six miles later had another flat! I thought of last year, and it occurred to me that, “maybe it’s my bad luck and not Sharkman’s!!!!?” Maybe you should change my nickname to “Schleprock.” The bike mechanic came along, found the rock in the tire, and I rode the rest of the ride incident free."
And finally.....
Sharkman was not putting his teeth into anything, but cutting a rug with Lava Girl at a weekend wedding. His Sharkness will be off again this week in Santa Fe to see the newest member of the Shark Family. Safe travels Sharkman!
New Route Saturday - Shermanator
Due to the Shermanator Triathalon this Saturday we will alter our course slightly to avoid the race.
See you all 8:00AM sharp.
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