- Bad Idea Racing - HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

I’ve got nothing on my radar right now.  How terribly unmotivating.  I don’t really know what I want to do next year, nor do I have anything short term coming up.  My only goal for the winter is to not put on 10-15 pounds like I normally do.  I’m kinda looking forward to doing some local riding.  I was out of town so much this summer I really didn’t get out on the Charlotte trails as much as I normally do. I also would like to do some trail work this winter.  I feel guilty during the summer because I don’t really get a chance to grab a tool and make a difference.  There’s even a new trail in town that I haven’t even had a chance to ride yet. 

I’ve read everything I could find about the 24 hours of Moab race this weekend.  I still don’t understand how the race ended for the solos, but they all said Laird made a good decision.  They shut the race down around 8:00pm (from what I understand), and then announced that they would have a decision on the restart at 6:00am the next morning.  That was 10 hours to come up with a plan.  I kinda understand the whole “lap canceling” thing the teams were doing, but it seems like there should have been a way to get the solos back under way for at least a few more hours of racing. 

Do I need a press agent?  Correct me if I am wrong here, but what happened to ME?  MBAction.com and velonews.com both had articles about the 24 HOA Worlds race.  Neither of them mention the “Elite” single speed class race.  Obviously the most intense battle was the whole “de-throning of Eatough” thing, and secondly the close battle in the women’s race.  Here’s my question.  Had the SS category been won by THE CAMERON CHAMBERS (Fisher/Subaru rider) would there have been a mention of the SS Class then?  Is this a case of the industry taking care of its own?  Does having a big sponsor help get the press, or would the SS class go un-noticed had Cameron won anyway?  I am definitely not saying we were racing on the same level as Eatough and Gordon, but for those of us in the race it was a very exciting eighteen hours of racing (the rest was just fun and conservation).  That’s almost twice as much racing as the riders got in the 24 Hours of Moab.  Is anybody getting this?

Don’t get me wrong.   I am definitely not doing what I do for fame or fortune.  If that were the case I probably would’ve stuck around for the podium at the Worlds, and I’d be writing sponsorship proposals for next year.  Hell, I am probably in the best place I have ever been as far a “sponsorship potential”, and I ain’t even gonna lift a finger trying to get something going.  I do have some “sponsors”, and they seem pleased as poop with the way my life is going.  I am just doing my best to understand how this whole thing works.  Am I wrong here? 

Feel free to throw rotten produce and feces at my egotistical ass if you feel like it.  

Man alive! I was hoping to vicariously suffer while watching the live updated results from Moab this weekend. I guess the rain got so bad that they were riding through rivers after about eight hours of racing. The teams had a restart Sunday morning, but the solo standings stood as is. It seems there is some confusion as to how they came up with the final results, so if you hear anything post it up somewhere fool.

Friday I came hope to a package from Twin Six. They were kind enough to send me some wearable schwag as a kind of “way to go in Conyers” nod. My family put dibs on some of the stuff (hey they support me so I can’t argue with them), but I got some sweet duds too. They must know “what’s up” as they included this shirt:

If you are in the need for some bike wear that’s about as sweet as it gets check ‘em out. Time to get rid of your dated Primal Wear jerseys and get something less scary.

Speaking of jerseys, 24 HOA sent me my “category winner” jersey on Friday too. It’s pretty sweet, but I am not sure when I will ever wear it. It kinda smacks of “I’m the World Champ and you’re not” attitude. It also must be a “lumberjack Canadian” medium because it fits me a little loose. I had The Boy do some glamour shots of me Sunday so I could send some photos to those who might want them.

Saturday I got to spectate as The Boy participated in the first race in the Bank of NC Short Track MTB Series. Attendance was a little lower than it was for the winter series, so The Boy ended up second out of two in his class. He is actually racing up a class currently. He should be in the 8-14 year old class, but he doesn’t want to be the six foot tall fourteen yr old whooping little eight yr old girls. After the race we headed to Fisher Farm for a little Skills Clinic PASA was putting on. It has been awhile since I have gotten up on a teeter totter, or any structure for that matter, and now that I am less worried about injuries it is time to have fun again.

After we played on the structures for awhile we hit the trail. I haven’t been out to Fisher Farm since The Boy and I did trail work out there last winter. I hadn’t seen the trail since we did grubbing and hole-filling work, so it was a pleasant suprise to see all the work that has been done since. The advanced section was a blast with tiny little bridges stuck down in the botom of gullies. Pretty sweet for a local trail.

Soooooo if you were in Moab racing my heart goes out to you. I can only imagine what it is like to train and plan for months to race for 24 hours only to come up 16 hours shy. That sucks. No one to blame, just a shitty situation. I think I would hava gotten the top five riders to go down in a gully for some mud wrestlin’ cage match Thunderdome-type sudden death tie breaker. Man, I need to be a race promoter.

The part of “Master Blaster” will be played by Laird Knight. Two riders enter, one rider leaves.

Maybe these guys will sponsor me???

See you Monday fools. 

After missing the awards to head home early Sunday after my big victory I was in the navigators seat. I lead us through the backwoods of Georgia till we hit I 85 and by that time I was too keyed up to sleep for more than five minutes on the way home. I got home, said hello to The Pie and the dogs and started unloading the Dirty Little Box. I needed to get the everything put away pretty quick because we had a social worker coming over early in the week for another home visit. I put away most of the stinky stuff, changed the last deadbolt that needed replaced for our fire inspection, and I fixed the dishwasher that was leaking. I mentioned to my wife that I didn’t think Chris Eatough ever came home from a World’s victory and had to fix a dishwasher, but she wasn’t buying it. By the end of the night I was passed out on the couch at 9:00pm pedaling in my sleep.

I woke up early on Monday and struggled to stand up straight. I hit my blog real quick, and then it was off to work on my fixed gear with my monkey butt and raw meat hands reminding me of the weekend’s efforts. Thank goodness it was Columbus Day (what is Columbus Day? Some white guy found a bunch of natives living on an island near this “new world” and gets credit for finding it?) Things were slow enough all day for me to write up my race report in between runs and recant my war stories with a few friends. When I got home Rob from Badger Cycles called me bursting at the seams about the exciting news. He told me wanted to braze a little gold crown on the top of the Badger headbadge and write “24 Hour Solo SS World M & F’ing Champ” on the toptube. Luckily he was kidding, but he was pretty stoked that I won. He knows Cameron Chambers from around the way, and he knew a few things about him that I’m glad I didn’t know till after the race. I spent the rest of the night putting away all my stuff I didn’t get to the night before and generally straightening up my bike room before passing out on the couch again at 9:00pm.

Tuesday I woke up expecting a normal day at work. On my commute in I got my first doorprize in ten years of commuting/messengering. It was kinda anti-climactic, and I rode off unscathed after giving a telephone pole a big hug. Tommawicki-wicki-wicki came uptown with her video equipment to shoot a little post race footage for the “Dickymentary”. Some random kid asked me if he could take my picture, and the hot dog guy yelled “Nice job Dicky!” to me as I rolled by. I got off early in the afternoon to rush home to meet a social worker for a home visit, and later that evening I was sitting in an adoptive parents support meeting. It’s way too surreal to go from staying awake and riding for 24 hours to try and slide right back into reality. I had trouble sleeping all night, and I don’t think things are quite back to normal.

“I have trouble acting normal…”

Yesterday was just a normal day of work capped off with an after-work beer. Then I rushed home to start preparing The Boy’s bike for the short track series that starts this weekend. He has grown over half a foot since the winter series so I needed to make some adjustments; bars, stem, seat height, new tires, bigger gear, new chain…. I also had a friend over at the same time that I was working on The Boy’s bike so we could bleed his front brake. The evening was full and I was on the couch by 9:00pm again.

So now here I am at 2:00am. I have been coughing up the Georgia dust for two nights in a row now , and my normal sleep patterns are still off. The Pie just put me out of he bed to either take some cough syrup or hit the couch. Since I can’t sleep I am trying to make the most of this extra time, so I figured I’d knock this out. Tonight The Wonderboy, Big Worm, and whoever else is looking for a reason to go cavorting after work is heading to the “courier bar” for some adult beverages to celebrate the big victory.

That’s what it’s like to be champ. Well at least that’s what it’s like to be the 24 Hour SS (non-UCI) World Champ. The title is so long it’s just easier to not tell people sometimes. Normal humans have no idea what I am talking about, and it is more exhausting trying to explain it than it was actually attaining the title in the first place.

So here’s to an off-season filled with beer, riding, and big wheels.

“Here’s to good friends, tonight is kind of special
The beer you pour, should mean something more
So tonight, tonight
Let it be Lowenbrau.”

As always I have had time to look back at the race and find some regrets. Maybe I should have pulled in two more laps? Maybe I should have stuck around for the awards? Maybe I shouldn’t have told my pit crew that if I ever talk about doing another 24 hour race they are to come and take all my bikes from my house so I can’t go? These kinds of things.

I am already thinking about what I am gonna do next. How can I top this year? Was this as good as it ever will get? I threw around the idea of taking donations for “Team Walmart Solo” for next year’s Burn 24 hour race. The theory is that I have enough people reading my blog that if half of them threw in $1-5 I could have an operating budget of $500 or more. Then I would go to Walmart and buy EVERYTHING I NEED. Bike, shoes, shorts, T-shirt, long johns, food, lighting(flashlights and duct tape), and so on. I would see how far I could push that crap through the woods in 24 hours. Afterwards I would donate everything to Goodwill. Don’t send your money yet, it is an idea in its infancy.

Tommawicki-wicki-wicki came uptown the other day to get some final footage for her “dickymentary” she was shooting at the Worlds. She reminded me of something I said during the night that I still don’t recall. She asked me how it was going and I replied “The devil’s out there….the devil’s out there”. Maybe I wasn’t as clear headed as I thought.

Peter Rajcani commented about a moment when I came up on him on the granite wall climb. There was a group of people at the top and they were cheering me on as my brain was coming out of my ears trying to reach the summit. When I arrived they said I was the only SS they had seen climbing that section. I replied “Then that is the last time I will climb that section”. I was only doing it because I thought that was what all the cool guys were doing. Doh!

Lots of love coming this way, and I appreciate it. Email, phone calls, and comments. I think a lot of people realized what this meant to me. I managed to start the season right with a win at the Cohutta 100, and then slip into a summer of mishaps and mayhem all over the continent with some success sprinkled in. To bookend it with one more win (the one I wanted more than anything) was just too sweet. Real storybook crap. I’ve mentioned it before, I love underdog movies. From “Zulu” to “Rudy” to “The Last Dragon” I get all verklempt during the big moment where the underdog realizes his destiny and perseveres. I got to be that guy, just once. That’s as good as it gets in the movie of my life.

My next challenger

“Who’s the meanest, prettiest, baddest, mo-fo, low down around this town? Team Dicky? Oh hell no! I am the Shogun of single speeding.”

When I got to the riders meeting on Friday I had my first look at my competition (well a list anyways). I didn’t recognize two of the names, but I knew Sully (Sean Sullivan) would be tough to beat. I went to bed that night thinking he was all I had to worry about. The next day while preparing my pit I turn around, and I was looking at none other than 2005 SS solo champ Dejay Birtch. Awww crap, what is he doing here??? Isn’t he supposed to be in Moab next week? He was only there to support his buddy Jake, but he introduced me to Cameron Chambers who would be racing for the SS title (they accidentally listed him as elite). Yes THE CAMERON CHAMBERS, 2005 national champ. Last year he beat Tinker, Eatough, Nat Ross, and everybody else. The dude is only 24 years old and has probably done more 24 hour events than I have ever done at my ripe old age of 37. Yeah, I’m racing for second now.

I saw Sully’s 29′er was equipped with a suspension seatpost (I used one in Conyers back in 2000), and Cam had a steel Fisher 29′er with a suspension fork (gasp). I felt like I brought a knife to a gun fight. From the very start we were going at it. The pace was super fast (I kinda expected that), and it stayed that way for the first two laps. I think I finally caught up to Sully on lap four. We were going into the second half of the course to be known as the GAP section (Granite Ass Pounder) for the purposes of my story. I asked how he was doing and he said he was “done”. I didn’t know what he meant by that, but everything means nothing and nothing is everything in a 24 hour race. I just kept going at it trying to remind myself I needed to last ummmm..like twenty more hours.

I was pretty amazed at how my legs were holding out. Although my hands were already killing me, I felt like my legs were endless. I was kicking it up the climbs, and I didn’t feel like it was hurting me. Hmmm… maybe I can get this guy. I started getting a slow flat out on the GAP section so I pulled over so I could hit it with some CO2. My stupid rear number plate made it nearly impossible to get my airchuck outta my saddlebag, but eventually I broke it out from it’s 24HOA marketing prison. (Partially my fault. I didn’t put my number plate where I wanted for fear of being penalized for modifying it. Later I noticed other riders had, and nobody was shooting them) I hit it with all 25 grams and busted ass back to the pits. My pit crew quickly set to swapping to a much narrower tire that I had brought. Goodbye low pressure and comfort. Say hello to high pressure and pain. The tire was a half pound lighter, and I did notice it when I hit the first climb. I also noticed it when I bombed down the GAP section and got rattled like a can of spray paint. Fair trade.

The Darkness

I have never been friends with the Darkness. I put on my MP3 player when I put on my lights to quiet the voices in my head. I know how bad it’s going to get in the next few hours. My circadian rhythm will kick in around 11:00pm and tell my body to sleep. Then my mind, heart, and soul with go into a three way tug of war with my body trapped in the middle. I’ll start to think about how warm the granite is, and how good it would feel to lay down on it. I will go from hot to cold to hot every five minutes. My temperature will never regulate. I’ll start drinking Burn energy drink hoping for some subsitute for a good night’s sleep. I can’t remeber to eat, or drink, or what I need when I get to the pit. I pretty much wish for a quick death. That’s the Darkness I fear. Not the darkness from the lack of sunshine, but the Darkness within. So put on my lights, and get me outta this pit.

I started my first night lap with a Lights and Motion HID I borrowed from Eddie O’dea. I had never used it before so of course why not wait until I am far from the pits to try to turn it on. I couldn’t. Crap. I rolled up to the first aid station, and luckily that chap had better luck than I did and the woods in front of me were illuminated. I went into my night conservation mode which means I ride safe(ish) and try to do nothing super heroic that might make me cramp. I just want to live ( I think). The night was going smoothly until I headed out on the trail for my umpteenth lap, and my light went blue-red-blue-red…black. Apply brakes and hoooray, I’m alive. I couldn’t see to adjust my commuter light on the bars, so I had to hold it in place while I rode back to the pits for less than a mile. I screamed out for Eddie and in a flash he had my problem addressed so I could get back to my drudgery. Stabby perma-adjusted my commuter light with duct tape so I wouldn’t have to hold it still if my light went out again (like that could happen).

I started noticing that my pit crew all had shit-eating grins on their faces. I always tell them I don’t want to know how I am doing, how everybody else is doing, or what lap I am on. They were obviously bursting, so I gave in. They told me that I was closing in on Cameron and the gap was down to 40+ minutes at the last time check. ??? I had been waiting to get lapped and now I am told that I’m gaining on him?? I wasn’t planning on that.

I decided to change strategies and give it a little gas in the dark. That’s not to say the demons weren’t still whispering in my ears; they were. “Lay down on the granite” “walk this climb” “you’re never going to catch him so why try”… that kind of thing. I noticed a mushroom that glowed in the night that looked like a melted golfball. I considered stopping to eat it. It either would have been nutritionally beneficial, sent me on a strange trip, or killed me. I didn’t see a downside. Fortunately it was far enough off the trail and would have required too much effort to eat it. Strange things in the night.

Somewhere in the night I felt bad. My stomach hurt, but a swap to bib shorts alleviated some of the pain. Something in my right arm felt as if it had snapped while riding over the GAP sections. I later found my rear brake lever’s position had changed, and I had to stop and fix it. I was suffering a lot of fore-arm pump on the GAP. I figured out how to reduce the pain of being beat to death on a rigid bike while descending on the surface of the moon. I stopped braking. I actually locked all my fingers around the grip and just held on. I was chaos in motion till I closed in on the bottom, and then I would reach for the brakes and haul it all in. If you ever want to crap your pants, give it a try. I highly reccomend it (only if you really want to crap your pants).

During the night I had many different sendoffs. Big Worm and Tommawicki-wicki-wicki chased me out with a video camera, the boy pushed my bike out from underneath me when I tried to mount up cyclocross style, and Dejay snuck up behind me and spanked my ass repeatedly telling me I needed to go faster.

Everytime I came into the pit from that point on I got updates. I was closing the gap by 10-15 minutes every lap. He was fading, and I was flying. I realized that even if I pass him we still have nine or ten hours to go. That would make him the hunter and me the hunted, and that’s not how I like it. I was happy to be catching him, but not thrilled about looking over my shoulder for the last third of the race. I got the gap down to less than ten minutes and went out to kill him. I wanted to pass him on a climb and crush his soul while I hid my pain. I never got the chance. My pit crew stopped me and told me that he had never left the pits and that I was now ahead of him. Not nearly as satisfying, but I’ll take it. I continued on into the Darkness (not the darkness).

I wanted to get as much into him as I could so I put the hammer down. If/when he got back in the race I wanted him to see some scary numbers. When I got back to my pit I did a turn and burn and went right back out. As I left pit row I saw Cameron’s bike standing outside his tent. One lap up, it feels good, but it’s only four in the morning. Hardly a time to celebrate. I don’t remember when it happened exactly, but I was out on the GAP section and my light went blue-red-blu….uh-oh. I quickly turned on my commuter light, and POOF I was miles from the pit with a dim glow to guide me. I rode as best as I could by memory and candlelight until Sue Haywood passed me right before the fastest descent on the course. I told her I was going to follow her, but to leave me if I fell off the back. I did my best, but eventually I was back on my own. It wasn’t long after I lost Sue that I found myself in the pits, and we decided one lap per battery. No more pushing my luck.

Word on the street was that Cameron was passed out and not going anywhere. I was a few laps up and the sun was pushing over the horizon. I had no idea what Sully was up to but I knew I had a few laps on him too. It was time to be conservative, do some math, make a plan, and execute. We figured I could do four to five more laps and I was sitting on nineteen. As I rode on into daylight I refigured those figures and decided if I could win it with three more then that would be enough for me. I have only done ONE unnecessary lap in a 24 hour race, and I don’t want to do that again. I killed a lot of time before heading out on my last lap and didn’t head out of the pits until I ate some bologna. I ate WAY LESS stuff than I had planned on. I say “ate”, but I should say consumed. I had five Ensures, five Burns, less than ten gels, two bags of Clif Shots, and maybe fifteen bottles of Heed. That’s all. I think all the meat and sugar I have been eating since August paid off.

Somewhere out on the GAP section, I was pushing my bike and I noticed I was missing a chain ring bolt. Hmm…I didn’t want to fold my Boone ring so I pushed my bike up, coasted down, and spun the flats all the way to the finish line. Sully was there waiting till 11:00am to cross the line. He had been chased out of his tent by Dejay in the middle of the night and was rewarded for his efforts. He passed Cameron in the night and came in third. We had a nice beer breakfast while we shot the shit and then crossed the line at 11:00:01.

A big thanks go out to all my little helpers: The Boy (Drew), Big Worm (Bill), Stabby (Clint), Tommawicki-wicki-wicki (Rebecca), Eddie O’dea, and Dejay Birtch.

All I can say is “cool”. I did something I’ve wanted to do ever since I started single speeding. It hurt, but it was rewarding. I didn’t stick around for the 3:00pm awards, as I had lots of other priorities on the home front that had to be tended to. Oh well. I got what I wanted, and standing on a podium always makes me feel more dumb than I do standing on the ground. I can’t believe I only felt tired once, and that was it. I never felt like I lost control of the bike or felt like falling asleep at the wheel. It was perfect (or as close I could ever expect to perfect).

For those of you that wondered, I chose the pink socks to start the race, okay? Yes, the person behind me ran away after seeing my calloused and cracked feet.

Does running make my butt look big?

Early on in the race I was in and out of the pits fast.

“C’mon Eddie. What do mean I can borrow the lights, but I have to pay for the batteries?”

Here’s how you put down 20oz of Heed in 4 seconds. Brings back memories of wine coolers in two liter bottles.

I wore the wife beater in honor of Zach (I think my weiner is funny) Broussard

I won.

I feel like it was a legit win as I was up against Sully and Cameron.  I had a great day and they didn’t.  That’s how it goes. I have been holding the other end of the stick a few times in the past so I feel their pain.  I’ll write something up when I get a chance, but for now I am beat.  And what does “The Champ” get to do today?  Hop on the fixed gear and go to work with monkey butt syndrome, hands made of hamburger, and cracked feet.  Hooray!!!

Here I am giving Sue all the advice she needed to win her class. 
(pic ripped from cylingnews.com)

“You see Sue, the way to win is to do more laps than anybody else.  I have spent years figuring that out.” 

I won’t be posting tomorrow as I am leaving at some stupid hour in the morning for Conyers. That’s kind of a good thing as I am running outta smart-ass comments about The Quickening. See you out there, or not.

Crush

Kill

Destroy

Two more days till The Quickening.

“Bike race? This has all been about a bike race? I came here to kill people, and you’ve been talking about a bike race the whole time? I feel plain silly. Conyers sucks.”

So I’m looking at what people “googled” to get to my site and what do I find? “Stunted maturity”. I hope they got what they were looking for.

I hate 24 hour racing. Any race that requires sleep deprivation, and has no beverage related reward at the finish line sucks. So why do it? Well for that exact reason. I know I can knock out a hundie without losing it. Twelve hour races are hard, but they don’t mess with my sleep. Multi-day stage racing is just a party on wheels. 24’s are the devil’s race. I am always worried about whether or not I will be able to push on all night or if the icy grip of the sandman come to me in the wee hours. I hate it, and that’s why I still do them on occasion. Knowing that it is an unkown, trying to keep it together for 24 hours, and planning everything just right… that’s why I do it.

Why do I liken the WSC to the cult classic “Highlander”? I feel drawn to this race as if an unnatural force has been pushing me towards it ever since they announced it this spring. I need to be there, and I don’t know why. I don’t know who I’ll be up against, but whoever they are they will certainly be a worthy adversary. Any time I go up against another single speeder in an endurance event I realize that he must be just as crazy (or worse) than me. For whatever reason he will be drawn to the starting line on Saturday just like me, and for 24 hours I will have to cross swords with him. I don’t know who he is, and he is faceless in my imagination. All I know is that I want to crush him, destroy him, tear his heart out, and then shake hands with him and say “nice race”.

I do ask this. If you know me and you are going to Conyers do me a favor. Don’t tell me what lap I am on, or how I am doing in the standings. I am on my own agenda till dawn, and then I will start racing. I have a plan and it involves me being as ignorant as possible to the fact that I am racing. It involves me driving myself into the ground headfirst for eighteen hours, and then coming up with a battle plan.

I’m not a warmonger, but I do have respect for a truly comitted crazy. One of my favorite “hell bent for leather nut-jobs” is none other than Patton. The man was nuts, but he had big balls and he knew how to motivate.

Some beautiful quotes from the craziest Viking to ever walk this earth, George S Patton:

A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week.

Battle is an orgy of disorder.

Better to fight for something than live for nothing.

Nobody ever defended anything successfully, there is only attack and attack and attack some more.

It’s the unconquerable soul of man, not the nature of the weapon he uses, that insures victory.

May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won’t.

Three days till “The Quickening”

“It’s gonna get pretty cold down in Conyers so I think layering will be the key to victory. Well that, and the fact that I have a big sword, and I will strike down all that oppose me. Maybe that’s really the key.”

Was there ever a worse song recorded?

(Maybe “We Built This City”) 

Nothing really outstanding going on here.  I was thinking I was tapering, but after reading Dave’s blog I think I am just riding around pointlessly.  He’s TRAINING, not just training, he’s ARMY TRAINING SIR.

I have no idea how anybody can have the spare time to train the way he does. Off the charts loonie, or eccentric millionaire?

I’m just getting my shit together and tuning the Meatplow. The weather is looking good for this weekend, and my legs feel fine.  I am going to get some real sleep later this week, and back off on the training and blogging.  As I get my shit together I am reminded of why I don’t do that many 24 hour races anymore.  It’s a huge pain in the ass.  Days of packing, followed by 24 hours of pain, ending in more days of unpacking.  Gimme one night of packing, followed by a long ride, then adult fun, followed by a load of laundry and a hot shower.  Ahhhhh… much better. 

The Wonderboy has been bugging me about doing La Ruta in ‘07.  They may be extending it to four days next year.  That would be the bee’s knees, so I am thinking about it.  Iron Bike probably won’t happen as I am not sure I want to devote that much time (or that many kitchen passes) to one race.

If Josh thinks seduction is going to get me to go to La Ruta he is sorely mistaken. (pic ripped from Brado)

Four more days till The Chickening ( I mean The Quickening)