Yes, I'm alive. No, I'm not sore. Yes, I finished. No, I didn't walk up any hills. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, it really wasn't that far. No, I don't know if I will do it again.
And Yes. That is me. Purple and Green. At the top of Emerald F'in' Bay.
My Pee and I: A Tale of Redemption. A Tale of Desire. A Tale Of Wetness.
Ever since I got dehydrated while riding about a month ago, I made it a point to drink TONS of water before I rode. This trend continued on race week, where I decided to drink and drink and drink my way into hydration. The one major fallback to this method of madness is that what goes in must come out. And come out it did.
On the drive to Tahoe, I went and I went and I went again. A total of 14 times in 10 hours. I violated the law of perpetual motion...as water never stopped moving from my mouth to my urethra. Sorry Newton...I finally proved you wrong.
Now you must be wondering how I made it from San Diego to Lake Tahoe in 10 hours if I stopped 14 times to go to the bathroom. And if you weren't wondering how that was possible, you definitely should be. This feat was accomplished with a little slight of hand, and a medium (grande, if you will) Starbucks cup. One of the best purchases I have ever made in my life was that medium (grande) mocha I got before I left San Diego...it housed at least a gallon of nonabosorbed water throughout the day...and the cup continued to smell like COFFEE. Freakin' awesome!
The mystery of how I released the urine solved, you now must be wondering how in the world I emptied the cup. I had to at least pull over for that. Well, I would like to say I did. I would like to say I didn't continue to pour my pee out the window while driving 80 mph...but I can't. My girlfriend and I continued to flood the northeastern 395 with my "fluids" hour after hour. But man...that pee really smelled good.
My obvious reaction to this situation was to be amazed, not sickened. I'm a guy, after all! And I was proud of every single birthing. So, half way to Tahoe, I turned to Tauni and vowed that once there, I would place a bet on roulette the total number of times I peed. And this is where the weirdness began.
Let It Ride: The Poker Game That Makes Me Want To Puke
Once in Tahoe, and with a myriad of toilets at my disposal, I decided it was time to put my money where my pee was. I went downstairs and played...Let It Ride.
Let It Ride? Why Let it Ride? You vowed to play Roulette!
I always freakin play Let It Ride because my sister, like ten years ago now, won a bunch of money on that game. So, every time I gamble, I play Let It Ride...and I lose my ass. This time was no different. I lost, no kidding, 19 out of 20 hands...and was down about $200. To make this even better, Tauni, who had never even heard of this game before, and kept called it "Better Than Tens" kept winning and winning and winning. Don't get me wrong, I was really happy for her. But a small part of me also wanted her dead. So, instead of going to prison the night before the big race, I decided to go try my pee-soaked hands at roulette.
I sat down and won instantly: a couple 2 to 1 odds here, a couple of 1 to 1 odds there. And all of the sudden, I was hovering back to being able to pay my mortgage. I decide to play one more game...and I put two bucks on 14...because that's how many times wittle Marky peed. Yeah...I hit it...
That was weird
The Coincidences Continue
Saturday morning, I go to pick up my race number. Oddly, it is 1401. I translated this to 14 and I won. It made sense to me. And I thought of roulette off and on during my ride.
Could my pee be trying to tell me something???
Race Day and I Let it Ride
Sunday was the race...and it wasn't really that hard at all. About 50 miles in, some of my gears stopped working, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to finish. My bike managed to hold together, and the two terrible hills of the race (Emerald Bay and Spooner Drive) were my personal bitches for the day. I finished the race up without much problem...only to learn that after I trained and trained for months, Darron, who did little-to-no training, not only beat me, but rode faster than the fastest San Diego TNT race team. He also NEVER peed during the race...while I did repeatedly. Again, 14 times. This was no longer funny (and yes, I counted).
Baby Hit Me One More Time
After the race, I briefly went to the victory party with Darron, Tauni, and Darron's friend JLO (not the singer...I don't think). We tiredly stumbled over to the roulette table, one last time.
We played a few games...I again hit a small bet here and there...and then I bet my pee-esque race number: putting $5 on 14, $5 on 1, and $3 on 0 and $3 00.
0 hit, and I won over $100...and I called it a night.
I didn't leave because I was freaked out. I didn't question the power of my pee nor my accomplishment of riding 100 miles. I wasn't even tired.
I called it a night because I really had to go to the bathroom...and I felt like that was a sign my luck had run out.