Disclaimer… We are shift 3, the night shift. We have lost in form any sense of reality and the norms of social filtering left us somewhere just east of Denver. With that proceed at your own risk

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As I write this blog, I have that taste in my mouth. If you’ve ever thrown up, then you know the taste I’m talking about. It must be the same taste that the survivors of a nuclear holocaust have in their mouths. I can say with a certain degree of integrity that I’ve left a piece of my heart (and lungs and spleen by the looks of things) on the side of the road in the fair state of Kansas. Apparently I acquired some sort of viral infection that sent me into the lower depths, far from any presence of life. I found myself praying that God would actually strike me down. If you can imagine being sick, then couple that with a God-forsaken trip across the country in a tin can of despair, then you know exactly what the last two days have been like. As the team took extra miles to cover my short comings, I came in and out of consciousness and swear that the grim reaper was sitting next to me with his boney arms around me in a comforting embrace. The whole experience was quite surreal. Jon Holmes finished his ride and took some Benadryl to knock himself out. He quickly became vegetative which meant that the others were actually dealing with two convalescent patients. It was quite congenial of the others to wipe the drool from our mouths as we struggled to keep our heads up, good times, as the kids say. As I regain some of my former luster, I’m faced with the reality that I now have to get back on my bike and earn my keep in the hopes that I will be able to ride without leaving my stomach contents for the small animals to peruse. Anybody interested in signing up for the next Team Will odyssey?