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Normally I am a very low key individual, not easily given to bouts of depression or anxiety. Something has happened recently that has changed all of that for me. My world has been shaken by the break up of LA and Sheryl. I'm deflated, demoralized and disenchanted. Normally a heavy sleeper, I find myself starting awake in the wee hours suffering with troubling dreams and not being able to again find slumber during the night. Things are not right. Last weekend it was announced that LA and Sheryl have called off their impending nuptuals and have broken off their relationship. What could have caused this? How did this come to be? I've been talking with my analyst, who cannot fathom my disquiet over the break up. She doesn't understand. To her, it's just another celebrity break up. It happens all the time she tells me. "Consider Brad Pitt and Gwyneth Paltrow then Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston". "Then, what about Ben Affleck and P Diddy and the back up dancer and JLo?" Big deal. Celebs hook up and break up. It's part of the performance. I suppose the thing that I find most deeply disturbing and troubling about the break up is that maybe The Rhino was right. Last July during dinner at a bar in Milwaukee he was voicing an almost sacrilegious dislike for LA. The Rhino knew LA, raced against him a few times as a junior and "never cared for the kid" as he called him. I suggested that perhaps he was jealous of the fame, money and such, if nothing else, even if LA is unlikable; at least he has Sheryl - whom I can say without the slightest embarrassment has been the subject of more than a few of my autoerotic fantasies. The Rhino scoffed and said this: "Dude, something is wrong with that chick. EVERY guy she's been with has dumped her. She's hot; I'll give you that but her track record ain't so good. I guarantee you she's got a screw loose." "NO WAY!" I responded desperately. "If Sheryl were a bike racer, her name would be Rashan Ba-HOTTIE!" The Rhino was callously knocking Sheryl off of the pedestal onto which I'd elevated her. Could it be that Sheryl might be cut from the same cloth as other crazy Rock -n- Roll skanks: Courtney Love, Deborah Harry, Janis Joplin and the lead singer from 4 Non Blondes? Could it be that the Sheryl of my secret desires is simply one more hot babe that when the lights are off is a Nutter who despite her looks wears a man down until he can no longer take it? She did allude to the concept in "Strong Enough". Perish! I of course would have none of that and quickly dismissed the notion. I treasured the view of her maternal side so supremely captured in MKA's recap of the Ojai crit last summer.
Now, it's all gone. Done. Could The Rhino be right? If one of God's most exquisite creatures has a screw loose, what hope is there for the rest of us? It's too much to think about. I began to drink heavily to dull the pain. Then, I spoke with my brother about my anxiety. He lives in the Land of Beautiful People. He's close to the scene. He provided me with some insight - some expectation that maybe, just maybe this isn't Sheryl's fault. It's a rumor that cannot be verified so I only report it here as such. My brother lives just over the hills from Solvang, site of The Discovery Channel cycling team camp. A rumor is spreading in the valley faster than a California wildfire that something along these lines went down one morning about two weeks ago…
Another theory has been floated around by the Team Delta brain trust. One of our more gregarious, man about town team mates, He Who Professes, has gone missing recently. No one knows where he is. Speculation is that he's taken a sabbatical and gone on a pilgrimage to Brokeback Mountain for training camp or a ski trip or something. Then, WunTun broke this story:
On to other matters… The Conscience recently posted on Truesport.com a publicity piece for a race to be held in KY on February 18th. I've known of this race and its reputation for being a stern test, especially in February.. In the pub piece, The Conscience billed the promoter as "The Howard Stern of race promoters". Being the curious sort and never one to shy away from vulgarity, my interest was piqued. I followed The Conscience's instructions to the promoters web page hoping to find what I assumed would be Howard Stern like material on the web page. You know, nude porn stars, discussions of girl or girl sex and the like. I was disappointed to find only information on bike races and video clips of riders going up hill slowly. It was a let down. I can only deduce, not having met the promoter that the Howard Stern like qualities noted by The Conscience learn toward bushy hair and a large nose. Or, perhaps he's in the habit of wearing sunglasses indoors, or perhaps he's been given 38,000,000 shares of Sirius Satellite Radio common stock. Either way, it made me wonder what the hell The Conscience meant by the comparison. That said, weather permitting perhaps the Delta gang will head south for that race, bunking along the way at The Conscience's epigone, Rev. Billy's quarters about half way to the race venue from my burg. It could be a pleasant way to avoid tackling such a heinous challenge after four and one half hours in the car. Plus, Billy has been known to keep a box or two of wine in the 'fridge. We'll see. For those of you unfamiliar with the word epigone, this is the definition from dictionary.com: epigone
\EP-uh-gohn\, noun: My estimation of The Conscience has obviously been an underestimation. I did not realize that in addition to all of the qualities put forth in the above definition The Conscience is also a musician. The only thing missing from the definition it seems is the word "cyclist". About which at least in the mind of The Conscience it can be assumed, goes without saying. Flail On, Druber
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