Boise, I'm yer ho

Westward we march.

Leaving Cini in Fort Collins was bittersweet. Coulda put that prof in the van and hauled her on the bike racing adventure. She-da rocked it. The drive outta the rockies, via the Snowy Range of southern Wyoming was full of so many vistas, I had to close my eyes. I slept at least 3 of the 7 hour drive back to Park City. I'm a good sleeper, and I'm a good kid when I'm sleeping.

There wasn't much time in PC before it was off to the Tuesday night world championships - SLC own crit on a car racing track. Great workout, if only amid some very strong yet poorly skilled riders. Not only did they like guttering every one in the crosswind while trying to bring back breaks - then wondered why no one would pull through - but with two laps to go the second bloke of the night tossed himself to the ground in front of me. Forty five minutes of intervals was enough of the crit for me, I watched the last two laps and licked my still weeping wounds.

Aside from getting a burger in a pita (ever heard of that? I mean where am I supposed to put the mayo, mustard, lettuce, onions, tomatos...), dinner was swell with Kirsten and Nate - fine upstanding young citizens. Only thing is Kirsten can grate, like on your knuckles when the cheese is down to the knub and ya slip. Nate is a brave man. And not only did I find this out at dinner as she was unrelenting towards me (I did the awful deed of sending my burger back to get a real bun around it), but in the morning I fed Pow-dog a some scramble egg juice and just about got hung in the town square. Wowza. The hostess with the mostess took super swell care of us in the PC palace, so no complaining at all. At all. Can't wait to have those two out to Cali.

This morning the travels continued. Another climb up Royal Drive above Deer Valley to start the day with a 30 miler, at altitude with high heart rates, and then the pavement moved beneath us. I-84 doesn't offer much, but Boise sure does. Great city, so many outdoor play grounds and OMG, they's some pretty folk here in this town, and some ugly ones, but the purty ones sure is purty. And there's good conversation to be had in Boise, like at dinner when these two made up late 30's ladies sat down next two us, talking about being tipsy, having mouths like sailors, and then, the volunteered data;

"My husband of 15 years left me 3 months ago for my best friend!"

"Um, wow, no, that's terrible!" I managed to mutter.

"We have 3 kids, he's got them tonight so I'm out getting hammered with my friends, I'm so fucked."

"No you're not, you don't want him anyway, he did you a favor, made it easy on ya," I consoled.

"You're right," she said, "I'll try and keep that in mind. Oh, did I tell you he bought her a new rack?" she said as she glanced down at her own sagging self.

Without much else to say at this point, Craig and I managed to stand up and bid our farewells.

"Where you two going," she and her made up, equally losing equilibrium friend questioned, "we're just getting started?"

"No sure, maybe to bed, together, it is our honeymoon afterall!" The looks on their faces - priceless.

But no, I didn't say that. I only blogged it. But that makes it somewhat real.

It's late and I'm sleepy. I won't get into the conversation we had with the gal who, while strolling down the pedestrian mall, lined with lively music, bars and restaurants - a hopping Wed. night in Boise - wanted to (and did) show me how well her abscess healed, and where it was. I guess they lanced it or something? She was inspired by my arm bangages and figured we were abscess siblings.

Bend better not disappoint.