Before I throw myself off the Enger Tower for acts of dishonor @ the Heck of the North in accordance with proper DBD protocol [next to my name on the results sheet is the unforgivable abbreviation “DQed”], let it be known that at least I held on to a semblance of dignity on that fateful day, in that unlike the “other member" that too joined the ranks of the “unwashed DNF rabble,” but exponentially compounded his sin by accepting a ride, I rode in under my own power. I guess at this point all that I can hope for is that "he" who perpetrated this even more despicable act of dishonor shall follow my example and fling himself off his own cliff and/or tower of his choosing.
I stand here now on the Enger’s precipice having chosen it as a symbolic and fitting end to a very nice ride. It has been a good ride and I owe much to the DBD. Of course, I had hoped that the end would come much in the manner or circumstance as it did for my mentors and club leaders. Mallory went on the great slopes of mighty Everest, Tilman on the tempestuous Atlantic somewhere in the northern latitudes, Shackleton and Scott amid the majesty of the polar reaches, while both Hillary and Mawson lived well into their old ages after having lived long lives of great adventure. But as Vonnegut is fond of saying as he chain-smokes in the billiards room of the club house, “so it goes.”
So fare-the-well and continue to support Jeremy Kershaw and his amazing new addition to the grass roots gravel-road racing phenomenon that is soooo good for cycling here in the Midwest. Instruct the body snatchers to leave me well enough alone, I deserve to be crow food...especially after missing Jason's Heck of the North post party...