Jason William Lee, making his directorial debut, takes the classic cabin in the woods horror format – friends having a party weekend by the lake and steadily descending into flesh-chomping madness of Evil Dead proportions - and adds a neat conspiracy theory twist (recalling George Romero’s classic The Crazies) to get the party really jumping. Stay tuned as I hamster dance toward my goal of not ending up in the back of a sag wagon between the dates of June 11 and 17.From the shocking opening – a blood-drenched credit sequences segues into cops discovering the very nasty aftermath of a drug-fuelled party gone very wrong – to a highly twisted, and cheekily topical pay-off, The Evil In Us grips and doesn’t let go, coming on like a 21st-century version of the 1970 hippy LSD freak out classic I Drink Your Blood. Clearly I had cleared the first hurdle and was 1 millimeter closer to be coming a middle-aged Lancette (that’s more bike speak for the female version of Lance you-know-who). Instead of hobbling out of class, I hobbled two seconds faster. But what a difference the right equipment makes. I now have to set the alarm even earlier because it is still taking me at least five minutes to figure out how to get the clip into the pedal thingamajig. I needed new bike shorts, shoes, and some cute socks. Everyone else was clipped in there had to be something to that. Giving up is for sissies, and I wasn’t going to do that. When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. There was a solution to this entire problem and it wasn’t giving up. Yes, I was out of shape but that couldn’t be the problem. This good, good, good, bad pattern repeated itself with alarming regularity for the next two weeks.Īs I hobbled out of the class, sweaty, dazed and confused, a thunderbolt of inspiration hit me. The music was good, the instructor was good, the bikes were good, but this hamster was, well, not so good. But two little words finally sold me on the whole idea: “supported ride.” That is bike speak that means food stations and sag wagons will be available in case of collapse. The website shows hard-bodied cyclists wearing cute bike jerseys spinning along scenic roads. What’s a little 412-mile bike ride spread out across six days? The ride begins in Crested Butte, ends in Georgetown, goes up and down a couple of passes, Cottonwood, (12,126 ft), Tennessee (10,424), Yellow Jacket (7,428), Rabbit Ears (9,426) and finally Berthoud (11,307). Yet, one day as the snow was swirling outside my window, I said to myself, “Self, isn’t Ride the Rockies on your bucket list?” To which I replied, “Yes, it’s on the list, but in order to do it, you must plop your booty in the saddle of a bike for long periods of time.” No problem. I do not own a road bike, and my mountain bike is pretty much an antique. He even rides a stationary bike in our garage. I can only blame it on the toxic combination of cabin fever, lack of sunshine and an overwhelming desire to get in shape.Īt least my true love owns a bike. I used to be able to blame this type of behavior on hormones, but since I’ve graduated to a place where hormones have evaporated from my body, I can no longer use that as an excuse. I committed myself and my true love to a petite pedal through the mountains. Steamboat Springs - Spring training is here! In a moment of temporary psychosis, I wangled a press pass for myself for Ride the Rockies. I can only blame it on the toxic combination of cabin fever, lack of sunshine and an overwhelming desire to get in shape. Spring training is here! In a moment of temporary psychosis, I wangled a press pass for myself for Ride the Rockies. Steamboat Springs Steamboat Springs - Spring training is here! In a moment of temporary psychosis, I wangled a press pass for myself for Ride the Rockies.
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