Time is running out. The K word is only three weeks away, and I feel like I'm in stasis. My social life is eating into my training time, and now the rain has come to waylay any attempts to keep/improve any condition I may have. Drastic measures are being taken, maybe a little hint of desperation mixed in too.
Waitangi Day saw me nursing a two-day-old hangover and ten hours sleep from the previous 48, and a lack of decent food the night before doesn't help with a Karapoti pre-run. But as I'd committed to the cause, and didn't want to waste a perfect day, I slunk my sorry arse into Marty's wagon, along with Rob, and prepared to endure. Mike, JJ and Roger were already raring to go by the time we hit the carpark, and were away up the gorge while we tried to get motivated. The trail was in a lot more desirable condition than our previous attempt, but it wasn't helping the legs any. At least we were peeling off clothing rather than packing it on in an attempt to stay dry/warm. We caught up to JJ and roger on the Warm-Up Climb, and as I was giving Roger the old g'day, I managed to fall over, on a climb, in granny gear, hardly moving... it's a rare talent. At the top of Deadwood we met up with Mike, who had been smashing it up on the shop Test Enduro. JJ had managed to drop his bike while carrying it, putting a nice bend in his rim, which then became a taco when he applied his wheel-truing 'skills'. Roger rolled in and informed us that Rob had picked up a stick and snapped his derailleur and hanger, and was hoofing it back to the car. That guy is cursed, I swear. Marty and I decided it would be not too slack of us to continue on, so we tried not to hang around too much, but not ride like madmen either. I was starting to feel a bit more human, and even Devils Staircase didn't hurt too much. Marty managed to bury himself up to his knees in a boghole after being told by some punters that the middle was the best line. The Rock Garden and Big Ring Boulevard were fun, and then the last big grind up Dopers seemed to be less of a chore than I remembered it from two years ago. The descent and the ride back through the gorge came and went pretty quickly, and we were back to console the forlorn Yank in a touch over three hours. All I could think about was catching up on all that lost sleep, and how the K word is not such a bad one after all... though I'll see about that in three weeks.