For Red.....

Hello there fellow readers. I was told by a certain friend, Redhead Jen, that my blogs did not have enough pictures. Well now here are some. Each photo has a story behind it. All I ask is that you pick one in the comments section. I will give the background of each picture that is commented on in a future blog. You may or may not win something. Probably not but this could be fun and definitely different.

It's Raining Cell Phones

I made a deal with my daughters to tell the blog world a story that happened last year while on vacation. The deal was agreed upon since I have told a story about them and will post many a more in the coming weeks, months and years. That is as long as my memory holds up. And if it doesn't. You know me. I will just make it up.

Last June, the family and I flew to Washington D.C. with the in-laws for about a week. My father-in-law wanted to see the WWII Memorial and the trip was a birthday present given to him by his three daughters about four years ago.

Prior to us arriving in D.C., I had checked the Washington Nationals and Baltimore Orioles' schedules to see if there was going to be a home game I could take my daughters to. I am one of those fathers that feels spending time with your kids goes a long way. Who knows, they may not be so reluctant to change my diaper some day.

A ball game is a good way for them to have stories to tell later in life. Another way to bond. It is not something my father and I did when I was younger but what the hell. I have no plans to be like my father. But that is another saga in and of itself.

I was born and raised in Atlanta. I am still a Braves fan. I was a fan well before the 90's. Just my luck. The Braves were going to be playing the Orioles for a three game weekend series while we were in D.C. My plan was to rent a car and take the girls to the Saturday night game. I lived in D.C. for three years and had never been to an Orioles game. This should be fun. I like baseball and they like the cotton candy, peanuts, hot dogs, dippin' dots and cold beer.

Come Saturday, we had already been in D.C. for four days. We had walked all over the place. Went to many a museums. Accidentally met Congressman Putnam from Florida. That's another story. Had a private tour of the Capital. There was one thing that kept happening on a daily basis while we were out and about. My cell phone would fall off of my shorts pocket. I would wear the plaid shorts with no belt to hook the clip to so I had to clip the phone to my pocket. Well the slightest bump would cause the phone to fall off and on to the ground or where ever gravity decided to take the thing. This would usually happen as I was going up or down stairs or escalators. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce. Both my girls would tell me, "Daddy you need to put your phone in your pocket before you lose or break it." Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I am your daddy. I know what I am doing. They both just laughed as if they were some kind of clairvoyants.

Back to the game. We took the Metro to Reagan Airport to get the rental car. All was well. I tried to get us to the stadium based on memory. When I say memory, it was from looking at Mapquest on the computer two weeks ago. No GPS system in the car. But hey I am Daddy. I know where I am doing. I factored in an additional hours time just as a "getting lost" cushion. I drove north on the interstate and then took the wrong exit. Well I knew it was the wrong exit only after I got on it. I played it off as showing the girls where I used to live. "Daddy. You used to live in an embassy." Why yes I did. Well back on the right highway.

Getting to the stadium turned out to be very easy. Baltimore/Washington Parkway north til it ended at the stadium. Membership Privileges got me an upfront parking spot. Bought cheap tix at the gate. Front row of the upperdeck along the third base line. Cheap tickets mean more money available for the little ones to buy food to occupy their time while I watch the game. Yippy.

Not a bad view from the picture I provided.During the game, there was a young couple to our left that had put their camera on the wall just below the railing. Now what do you think happened. The camera demon somehow caused the camera to fall over the edge. Me and the girls look over and see this rather bad-ass looking bald guy rubbing his head as if he had just been hit by a falling object. This object just happened to be the couple's camera. The girl is leaning over and yelling sorry and offering to buy the guy a beer or name her first born after him. The security lady is recovering her camera and calming the guy down. I tell the girls, while laughing, that that is the reason you don't put stuff on the wall. I see the security lady give back the camera to the girl and give her a stern talking to. Can you see where this story is going since it was my girls that wanted me to tell it.

The eighth inning has arrived and the Braves are getting clobbered. Time to leave and beat the....weather. We start to walk up the stairs and what happens. My cell phone, that is not in my pocket, bumps the hand rail and falls off my shorts. It was just like the movies when it all happens in slow motion. My phone starts bouncing down the stairs. Now my daughters are right behind me kind of providing a human shield for my phone. You would think my phone was Moses and my girls were the Red Sea because they just moved right out of the way and watched gravity play havoc with my phone. Bounce. Bounce. Phone separates from holder. Bounce. Phone and battery separate. Bounce. Battery goes over the wall and down below. Oh crap. I could have sworn the ball players were actually watching my phone fall as well. A big ooooh from the crowd.

I run down to the wall and look over to see where my phone landed. There is this bald guy rubbing his head and looking up at me. The same bald guy that already caught a camera with his head.We catch each others eyes and he is not too happy. Great. Whose laughing now. I yell down using the same lines that the girl used earlier. The same security lady was holding my battery and looking up at me. I yell down at the guy that it was an accident. Someone else in the crowd says, "Yeah. It wasn't like you threw your phone down there. Well you didn't did you."

I grab the girls and tell them that I need to go get the battery for my phone. They are both just laughing and saying told you daddy to put your phone in your pocket. I had a crisis on my hand at the moment and was in no laughing mood. I thought I may have to fight some dude for my battery or worst yet....Morgan and Morgan. They were both also saying they needed to go to the bathroom real bad. Now all that laughing will make you pee in your pants. I told them to hold it because I needed to get the battery. While I was going down a level, the security lady was coming up a level. We eventually crossed paths. She gave me my battery. I told her the story which she started to believe until she caught site of both my girls laughing. Now who is getting the stern talking to. Great again.

The girls could not understand the seriousness of the situation. They enjoyed seeing their father, as they called it, panicking. I told them I was not panicking. I was trying to avoid a bad situation. Now if I were at the game with the fellas that would be different. I would have already had 3-6 beers in me and probably would not have known the phone went over the ledge. Needless to say we made it out of there unharmed. The girls were able to go to the bathroom and my phone worked.

I have since got a new phone with a better clip but we have not been to another ball game. And when we do, I will put my phone in my pocket just for them. I enjoy hearing the girls tell this story. Each time it gets better and better. Funnier and funnier. The phone falls from higher and higher. I don't mind being the brunt of their funny stories. At least I am part of a good story they can tell.

Is That A Chainsaw I Just Heard

Time for our second legs of running. C-Steve is off and running. He requested no bike or water support. He was on his own. And we for the most part, let him be on his own.

Before we broke camp and left the exchange area, I had to check on my fallen runner. I paid a visit to the luxury van and saw Stacey laying across the seat. She was bandaged on her palms, elbows, knees and toes. She looked miserable but was still managing to smile. She was not sure if she would be able to run her third leg but it was still too early to tell. I told her the Captain would figure it out when it came time. It wasn't like she was just giving up cause she was tired. The damn woman was attacked in the fog by a Bridge Troll. Remind me. I have to show C-Steve a map of where Stacey went down and see if he has any family living near that bridge.

We loaded up the van and headed towards the next exchange to wait on C-Steve. We passed him along the way and gave him some shouts of encouragement. "Your doing great Steve. Your on pace. Hurry your ass up. She's catching you. You big sissy." Now I mention "she" because during C-Steve's first leg, he happened to almost catch someone and then razzed the person and their team when he finished. Well on his second leg, he caught up to a woman and then pulled ahead of her. Well as he was closing in on the final 50 yards or so, she catches him and passes him in the exchange box. To this day he denies this ever happened but we do have the proof below.

As you can clearly see C-Steve is to the right and the woman is to the left. Plus in the other photo he is showing the hand sign of second place.

Jason was off on his second leg and also requested no bike support nor water. His run was mostly going to be on a paved trail. He again only wore his shoes, shorts, headlamp and safety vest. He passed seven other teams during his run. I drove us to the next exchange but did not hear a sound from Redhead or P-Funk-U. I was not even sure they were in the van. I could just imagine them being back at the camp area in the port-o-lets. Brake check. I hear them now.

B.o.b. was our next runner and now it was time for me to get on the bike. It was as much my demand as it was her request for me to bike. It was pretty damn dark and she would be alone on some trails and I was not letting anything happen to any of my girls on my watch. Or at least the girls in my van. Sorry Stacey. Had I been your bike escort, you would not have fallen. I'm just sayin'.

Jason trotted in and handed off to B.o.b. She was off and so was I. All her run was on paved trail. We could not see a thing other than red blinking lights ahead of us. I am sure it is beautiful scenery during the day but couldn't tell you. Wait, did I just type beautiful scenery. The "twins" are playing tricks on me.

There were some parts on B.o.b.'s run that felt like we were out in the middle of the woods. I could see some lit up farm houses right off the trail. I was thinking, this would be a perfect time to start-up a chain saw if I lived in one of those houses. I even teased B.o.b. a little about this very subject. I told her that she would have to be the bait until I got the creature killer ready because if I got taken down first then she was on her own. And balling up in to the fetal position only works on bears. Just sayin'.

There was one thing I kept noticing during B.o.b.'s run. There were never any issues when I gave her water. I was hoping she was kind of paying attention to how the whole water from bike to runner to bike process works.

B.o.b. kept a nice steady pace going. She passed four other runners. She also "chicked" one guy. Those that are unfamiliar with the term "chicked", it means a guy was passed by a woman. That "chick" being B.o.b. Now towards the end of her leg, she started slowing down. I kept telling her that there was someone behind us catching up. This caused her to pick up her pace and finish strong. When she got to the exchange, she looked back and saw no one. To this day she thinks I was making it up so she would not slow down. B.o.b., there really was someone behind you. You ran a great leg. If you zoom in on the pic, you can see in her face how much she put in to her leg.

Now B.o.b. passed off to our next runner. Her name escapes me right now.

Next: "No. No. No man. I ain't gay."

Running with "The Twins"

Yesterday morning, as part of my half assed marathon plan, it was time for me to run an 18 miler. I was not alone. I decided, as always, to take the "twins" along. More on those guys later.


The weather was great. High 50's, clear and a little wind during the first 14 but a terrible head wind for the last 4. The course is out and back for 9 miles and I needed to run 18. So if my math is correct, I would need to run out and back....bare with me a second. Okay now, carry the 3. Add the 4 because of the stop light. Alright now factor in that pie thing. Subtract 7. Presto. Out and back twice for 18 miles. Yippee. As a side note. Have you had any peecans lately?


I run with members of the Brandon Running Association. We have a great group of runners and walkers and yappers and just those that go to the party's to socialize and feel loved. We have a weekly running schedule that includes a hill day, a speed work day and a long run. There are group runs everyday but Friday. There is also this run on Sundays called a "recovery run". Now I just don't understand how part of a recovery would include something that got you feeling beat to hell to begin with. Would a recovering alcoholic drink just a little bourbon to take the edge off. If that's the case then when is the next meeting. Hi. My name is Walt.


Our long runs are on Saturday mornings. With such a big group of runners you are also going to have numerous paces. Our schedule maker, Club President Elton, does a great job of setting the start times so that each pace group should finish together just in time to make a breakfast trip to Panera's. Now the start times and distances are not set in stone. As a free runner, you can decide how far you want to run and when to do it. I sometimes fall in to this category. I am sort of in between paces for the most part. So it's just me, the "twins" and my mp3 player out there on the long ones.


I started late of course. Go figure. B.o.b., Holly and Slappy Dee were already out on the course. They had a two mile lead on me. All three of them are improving greatly in their marathon training. Don't let B.o.b. ever fool you on her blogs about her running woes. She is kicking it and should make her goal of a 4:15 marathon. I felt pretty good during the first, I don't know, nine miles. This was the first out and back and is also when I saw my car. I could have gotten inside of it and just driven away. But no, I could not do that to my fan base. What would they think. Plus I was gaining ground on the trio. Holly would be the tough one to catch. So I thought. I underestimated the other two. I managed to close the gap on B and SD to within a quarter mile with two miles left. This is when I imagine their conversation was as follows.


B.o.b. "Look at him behind us trying to catch up."

Slappy Dee "Yeah. All about to cry."

B.o.b. "Let's show him what training can do for ya."

Slappy Dee "With a little booty mix."

B.o.b. "Booty mix?"

Slappy Dee "I don't know. It just sounds good."


They were off and I was smoked. And again B.o.b., thanks for that chocolate milk. It tasted great.


Now to the "twins." I have these "twins" that just hang around with me all the time. And I have no plans of parting with them any time soon. They just need to quit playing hide and seek on my long runs. Their game is not without pain. I mean they find the furthest places away from home to hide. Thank goodness for elastic waist bands.

I am trying to figure out if it has something to do with clothing, temperature, positioning or all three. There isn't much I can do about the positioning. They pretty much have lived in the same place all their lives. Maybe some stretching exercises before I run could help. Couldn't hurt. Well not much. These would have to be some exercises I can do alone and not with the group. I have tried to let the "twins" lead during the run but they usually get tired and look for somewhere else to go. Hence the hide and seek.

As far as clothing goes. I have tried running shorts. Regular shorts. Biking shorts. Nothing seems to work all the time.

I will give the "twins" some credit. They don't play bad all the time. It seems more so during the long runs when there is a chill in the air. I have figured it must have something to do with the temperature. So I am designing running shorts that have a crotch pocket where you can put one of those camping hand warmers inside. That should do the trick. It would give the true meaning of sweaty.... Well you get the point.

Now I am off to the drawing board.

My Tent Is No Motel 6

We have now handed off our running responsibilities to Van 1. We shall not see them again for 6-8 hours. It is time to get food and hopefully some sleep. Keep in mind it is not even 10 pm.


We load up the van and it seems that everyone is still hopped up with energy (I think) from our first legs. The sounds of Redhead bragging about her pace during her 3 mile run. Beth complaining about how she "ain't never gonna have no kids now." Millionaire texting his every move to someone and downing hand fulls of vitamins. C-Steve was going on and on about....well I am not sure what he was going on and on about but he was. And then there was our other female runner. Now because she and I are in a contract dispute right now, I can not mention her name for fear of royalty violations. Oh screw it. P-Funk-U was just so happy to be done with her 8 miler and wanted so much for someone to listen to her. And me. I was just taking it all in and being a good listener like a Captain should be.


I was going down my mental check list and asking all the important questions of my runners. Is anyone hurt? Does anyone need to call home? Is there anyway you guys can run a little faster on your next leg. Who has money for gas? Who just passed gas? Millionaire, where are your clothes? When did we get a dog? B.o.b. are you crying? Redhead does the sun ever shine in Orlando? What does a flat tire sound like? P-Funk-U is that a box of Thin Mints your eating?


We are headed towards exchange 24 which is the next Van change area. The Van change areas are designed to be larger than the regular exchanges and also have food and drink. Ragnar was providing a spaghetti dinner at the exchange for a nominal fee. Spaghetti and sauce heated by a bunson burner for who knows how long. "Just stir the sauce around. You won't notice things that don't look familiar to ya." Guess where I was going to drive the van before stopping at the exchange. McDonalds. I knew there was one close by because of last years race.

McDonalds served two purposes. Everyone could use the bathrooms to freshen up a little and then get a bite to eat if desired. Now this particular McDonalds was in a one stop-light town. But it was the only option other than gas station food. Imagine what the employees were thinking seeing us come in. All sweated up and draggin ass. We were not sure if other Ragnar runners had been here but they weren't here now.

The girls took the opportunity to change clothes and take hot showers in the McDonalds' bathroom sink. The bathroom had one of the electric hand dryers. I later heard the play by play of how the girls were using the dryer to dry off and warm up. It was not told to me by one of the girls. The cook was actually telling the other employees when I was ordering my food. Something about a security camera in the bathroom due to recent vandalism incidents.

I decided since I would be bedding down soon in the tent, I was going to wear what any camper should wear when it is chilly out. Long Johns. At least the pants part. I wore a long sleeve shirt as well. Now when we first got to McDonalds we were the only ones there so I figured it would be okay to wear the long Johns inside. I don't want to say a church bus pulled in but it did get crowded all the sudden. Turns out you could see my butt through my pants. I did not realize this until I caught a lady giving me the once over smile. She offered to pay for my food. In that case I will have a number 11 and a Double Cheeseburger, thank you very much granny.

We left McDonalds slightly cleaner and fresher and headed for our hotel room. Yeah right. We were going to be pitching a tent to sleep in. I brought an eight person tent for us to use so we would not have to sleep in the van. I pulled in to the parking area and drove to the back where there was only one other van. We were pretty secluded, as best you could be given the circumstances, and far enough away from the activity and lights. It was very dark and starting to get chilly. Nice. Great tent weather.

The tent only took 10 minutes to set up. I felt like a father taking his kids out on their first camping trip. I found out that C-Steve had never pitched a tent before. He was so excited. He kept telling me that he had never pitched a tent before. I told him not to brag about it in certain circles but it was okay to tell me. He was among friends. I also brought two sleeping bags. There again comes the lack of communication on the e-mails. I had asked if anyone needed one and the only person to request one was B.o.b.

After everyone went on their potty breaks, we got in to the tent. Well not all of us. P-Funk-U decided she was going to sleep in the van. I thought it was because she smelled the most but I later found out the true reason. Something about a tent collapse at a circus she was performing at years ago still haunts her to this day.

So there was five of us in the tent. Two of us had sleeping bags and the others had blankets. In other words, two of us were warm and the others struggled. I am all nice and settled in for a long Winter's nap when I hear this chattering sound right next to me. I open my eyes and realize that it is Redhead's teeth just a clicking. I asked her what is wrong. She tells me that she is freezing. Quite the dilemma. What should the Captain do? Not enough room for two in my sleeping bag. And the Captain needs to have his warmth in case some tough decisions need to be made. Here is one of those decisions. I say, "mind over matter." I suggest she get in the van. She says she will be okay. I fall back to sleep. I then hear this zipper sound and realize that someone is unzipping the tent. It is Redhead saying she has to go to the bathroom. A short time later, I hear the zipper again. She has returned. Just as I am back to sleep. What do I hear. The teeth chattering. Then the zipper. Then the zipper. Then the teeth chattering. Then the zipper. My God woman, what the hell. "I already have a tiny bladder and being cold on top of that doesn't help." So one more zipper. At this point I am debating on waking everyone else up and moving the tent.

Now during this episode, Millionaire decides he wants to get up and get in on the action. Unzip and then zip. Just as I am falling asleep, I hear this banging sound. I mean a loud banging sound. So loud that it woke everyone up, including B.o.b. who was practically in a coma. I look in the direction of where the noise is coming from and it is P-Funk-U banging on the back window of the van. It seems Millionaire had gotten something from the van and left the light on. I thought I heard P-Funk-U yelling, "this ain't no Motel 6 b%^*h! Turn the light off." She actually was starting to turn green. Redhead was balled up in the fetal position in the corner of the tent hiding under what blanket she had. I debated on getting my critter killer up until the moment Millionaire turned the lights off. Then there was silence. I told Millionaire for safety's sake and all of humanity, could you not make that mistake again.

I then hear my phone going off. It was Kalani letting us know that Milsaps was getting ready to start his run. That meant we had about 30-40 minutes before C-Steve would be running. Was it 3 a.m. already. Kalani also said they had a runner down. Stacey had fallen while running in the fog. She did not see a raised section of road and took a hard fall. Apparently a Blackberry does not work well as a fog light.She was a trooper and got back up and continued to run, and Tweet and update her Facebook status. She was not sure if she would be able to do her third leg or not. I told Kalani to tell her not to worry about that. We would take care of it.

Well time to wake all my kids up and close up camp. C-Steve got ready and we were off on our second legs.

Next: Was That A Chainsaw I Heard?

The Great Razor War Wages On

A break from the Ragnar journey.

I must inform you of this war my wife and I have found ourselves battling with my oldest daughter for the past six years. I knew it was coming. It was predicted. The writing was on the wall. I read about it in parenting books. Well I really didn't read the parenting books. But my wife did and told me about it. I did read the articles about it in the Wall Street Journal, Men's Fitness and National Geographic. On a side note fellas. That National Geographic isn't what it used to be. I mean c'mon, now that your allowed to look, they really aren't all that thrilling to see. I digress. I even overheard guys talking about it at Home Depot. What was this great dilemma going on here. It was the amount of razors a teenage girl can go through in a weeks time and how much they cost.

I mean how many razors does a girl need in a weeks time to shave. Can't have much hair growing on her legs at such a young age. And the blond hair would at least give her another three days. Am I right about that. I will be honest, I do like their mother to have smooth legs. But there better be no boy alive that likes my daughter's smooth legs.

The oldest one was going through 3-4 razors a week. I only noticed when I would step on them in the shower. Now the razor I could avoid by seeing it before I stepped on it. But it was the damn clear plastic cover that I could not see and always hurt like hell when stepped on. So much for a nice relaxing shower. Time for that drink and a new tactic.

She was to be allowed one razor a week because that's what her mother used. And they were not cheap to begin with. Especially when you go from the standard one blade to the "Princess Smoothness" eight blade version. Those also double as a paint stripper. I know. You should see the chest I repainted.

We thought we were winning the war. Or at least some of the battles up until about three years ago. That is when the youngest one joined her sister's army on the Eastern Front. At first we had the youngest one on our side. But it turned out that she was merely a spy for her sister and provided valuable supply information. Kind of this sister blood thing going on. You know, "when mommy and daddy aren't home, who will hear you scream."

Their mother had this trust with the youngest one. That's how the spies do it. Build up that trust. Their mother would give out a razor on Sunday night and then hide the rest. Only she and the youngest one knew where they were. The youngest one knew in case one was needed and mommy was not home to give one out. Soon both daughters were taking from the secret stash. I hated having to pat my girls down for contraband every time they came out of our bedroom.

Now I was going to stay out of this whole thing until I was told we may have to take out a second mortgage to keep our girls all smoothed up. Oh boy don't want to be bad dad for this reason but game on girls. A new year was comin' and time to change up the battle plans.

The peace talks were held in the car on a family trip during Christmas. New rule. Four razors are given to each of you at the beginning of the month. You decide when and how you use them. If you need more than four then you are to purchase them. You can buy as many as you want. Heck you can even buy stock in Schick. Lord knows I did about three years ago. Now why didn't I come up with this rule long ago. How simple. Now I know when two parties come to the table they are supposed to each have concessions. Now the girls brought the use of only four razors a month. I wondered what we brought other than a firm rule about what they are now to do. Nope. We just agreed to buy them more razors when they run out of the four. Neither one of them have a job so where does their money come from. Oh well.

And this little story is only a little bit of what it is like being the dad in a house of girls. No trading for anything though. Except maybe some type of lifetime reusable razor. And you wonder why I don't shave.

Don't Stop Pedalling or The Punisher

We must continue with our journey. I last left you with P-Funk-U finishing up her 8 mile hilly and I mean hilly jaunt. I rode ahead at her last half mile and told Redhead that she needed to get ready to go.

I offered to ride for her but she did not want one. Her first leg was only three miles and Ragnar listed it as Easy. She said she did not need us to give her water during the run. "It's only three miles." At the same time doing the little head nod. I don't want to point any fingers but someone in the crowd yelled, "show-off".

P-Funk-U handed off the slap bracelet to Redhead and she was on her way. She was cruising right along. Now this stretch of road was HWY 98 with little shoulder and large trucks. The size of trucks that piss you off coming at you but feel great passing and pulling you the other way. Another good reason for the headlamps and reflective vests. I drove us ahead to the next exchange area. It was finally going to be my turn to run.

My first run was listed at 8.8 miles and categorized as Very Hard. It must have been the distance because the elevation did not change much. I requested a biker only because of the need for water. B.o.b. decided she would ride the bike for me. Now why C-Steve or Jason did not offer is unknown. Honestly though, I would rather run behind her than either of those two.

Redhead was running so fast that I had little time to give B.o.b. any biking 101's. I had seen her ride a bike in the past and felt comfortable that she would be okay. Now this one did not have a rubber shark horn but it did have a seat and two wheels. I told her to make sure she kept my backpack on and if I asked for it, not to ask me why. Little did she know she would be carrying our creature killer.

Redhead is in and gives me the slap bracelet. As I am running by our van, I hear B.o.b. yelling at me, "hey I can't get the seat to lower." Whoops. I forgot about that part. Nothing I could do now since I was already running. How bad could it be. It is a gel seat. I think.

I'm running along settling in on my pace. I have my Garmin on but I did not want to check my pace. For the most part I like to run without a watch. The double cheeseburger was just now kickin' in. Time for water. I have my very own water girl along side me. This should be no trouble at all. Right. Well if it were that easy why tell you about it.

To my right I am hearing, "this seat is too high. It is hurting my %^$#*&^. I don't know how much more I can take." I reach down to turn up my Shuffle and must have pushed the wrong button because it stopped working. Oh great. Well I still needed water.

I figured I would just reach my hand out and B.o.b. would give me the water bottle. Good luck with that. She was having such a hard time because the seat was so high she did not want to reach down and grab the bottle. I told her that as long as she rode next to me, I would reach down and grab the bottle. I did not want to slow my pace but I also did not want to get ran over by a pit crew member. Okay here goes. I reach over and she slows down which means there is no bottle there for me to grab. B.o.b. don't stop pedalling. You have to keep the same pace as me. Okay, but I don't want to crash. Oh, boy. You are not going to crash if you keep pedaling. But it's hard with the seat so high. Now I reach over and her leg is blocking the bottle. I then tell her to stop pedalling but don't slow down. How do I keep up and not pedal? I just need you to keep your leg out of the way but you still have to be beside me. How about you pedal ahead and then I can run up to you and grab the bottle. Not that far ahead. Have you ever just lost your thirst.

With less than a mile left, I tell B.o.b. to ride ahead and let Van 1 know that I was coming in and they would be taking over. I hand off the slap bracelet to Kalani and Van 2 is now done for the next 6-8 hours. Time to eat and get some shut eye.

Next: Pitching a Tent or We'll Leave the Light On For Ya