MRT

It's been a bad week to be a pro cyclist. Arguably the most successful team in professional cyling over the last decade can't find a sponsor for next year, despite winning the Tour and putting another on the podium. The Kazakh juggernaught now has three positives from the last month, and no-one in the upper reaches of the sport's management is atually any closer to doing anything about it - tho the ASO-UCI screaming match seems to have quieted down a little bit like children throwing a temper tantrum finally hyperventillating and running out of air. Rest assured, after they get themselves under control, they will soon be back at it, flinging feces and screaming random obscenities.

Not only is man obviously descended from monkies, but some of us still are monkies.

I feel bad for monkies. Way to make them look bad.

Meanwhile, I finally got out and did the McKenzie River Trail yesterday, with Doug and Muyskyns. We rode up from the bottom until the Trail Bridge Reservoir, then turned around and came back. Somewhere around 4hrs, nice pace. And a sixer of Golden Stone amber ale awaited at the bottom. Mountain biking rocks. My skills even seemed to improve towards the end - I got going trying to rail all the turns and hit my pedals and cranks about 10 time in the last 15 minutes, occasionally knocking my feet off and once launching my rear wheel sideways, but the miracle of fat tires kept me upright and I swear, I didn't even crash. Who woulda thunk.

Keeping up the theme of avoiding road bikes this week, I am skipping both the Crawfish and the State Champs crit up in PDX this weekend. Not only is it a painful drive for an hour of racing, I just can't be convinced to give a damn. There's some wiley native rainbows in the upper reaches of the McKenzie, and I have a box of fresh flies ready to do some damage. I might pack in with a propane burner and a frying pan, and have me some fresh lunch on the river somewhere.

Sounds even better than riding...