Totally BrEPIC, dude.

I know I said it at least one hundred times during last year’s Transylvania Epic…but I’m done after this one.  And I can’t seem to keep my own word.  So…instead of being “done,” and instead of taking my usual “every—other year” timetable…it’s 14 months later and I’m toeing the line for the Breck Epic.  I SWEAR this will be the last one.

 

Why Breck Epic?  Well…it’s the final one on my stage race bucket list, and my bros that did it last year insisted upon coming again this year…so what the heck.  I mean…it’s just like the other ones…unfamiliar terrain, a good distance from home, purportedly awesome trails…only just take away the oxygen.  Oh…and add a day.  Oh yeah…and about 15,000 feet more climbing.  Who the heck MAKES this bucket list, anyway???

 

This cool, clear morning finds me in a condo at Beaver Run Resort, the host condo complex for the 2017 Breck Epic.  We arrived here yesterday after a 2-day drive across a whole lot of country that would have made for a MUCH easier race.  After picking up Matt W from Denver International, we sat in a ton of traffic heading up I-70 and into the mountains, and Matt is sharing the condo with my wife Michelle and I…with our other buddy Dave and his family just down the hallway.  This is my first non-solo stage race…the other two were pretty much me and my popup camper…now I’ve got company AND fancy digs…one is not so good for race-focus, the other, quite good, I would think.

 

T-minus one day, and we will see how basically 2 years of riding 5-6 days per week will pay off.  So far, the altitude is winning, as I spent a good portion of last night on the floor of the bathroom in between vomitous episodes.  I feel better this morning, but I kinda need some food to put back in me.  Then a bike between my legs to give it a test run.  At least its freakin’ beautiful out here.

 

DAY ONE

 

Pennsylvania Creek

 

I have no idea what to expect, or how my body is going to react.  All I know is that I was nervous as hell, and the scariest thing to me was the climb on the road right out of the gate.  2.4 miles uphill with 600 pairs of fresh legs…many of which were attached to lungs that were used to the 9000+ foot altitude.  I knew I was headed for the back of the pack…but how far back would I fall? 

 

And then we were off.

 

I metered my effort out of necessity, but I was still redlining…breathing hard, heart racing…and getting passed like crazy.  Not good for the brain.  Then…finally…mercifully…the top.  And…sweet, sweet singletrack.  In fact, CRAZY good singletrack.  I was in a line of riders snaking down a buttery-smooth trail and suddenly all was right with the world.  I caught my breath and just enjoyed the flow, finally realizing WHY I was out here doing this…because it is freakin’ awesome.

 

As the day progressed, I had good and bad patches.  The first soul-crushing 3.5 mile climb that involved a LOT of hike-a-bike, something I had anticipated and actually trained for (on our tiny excuses for elevation change here in IL)…but MAN is it disconcerting when you are putting forth huge effort for such little return…AND getting passed by superhumans on single-speed bikes.  After topping out and then screaming downhill on a section so rough that it didn’t really provide much recovery, I splashed through a creek and started the whole process over again.  This time, however, I found myself breaking a bit mentally…after all…this was only Stage ONE of SIX.  My mindset improved once we got up top again and I was able to enjoy some relatively level singletrack, and even peaked higher when I got to see my lovely wife who had pedaled her bike up to the first Aid Station at mile 14.  Super fun, mostly downhill trail followed that, and the Aid at mile 20 found me relaxing and enjoying a banana…when suddenly a flying Dave ripped past.  I yelled for him to wait up, but there was no stopping…he was on a roll.  I jumped on my bike and took off after him, eager to ride with a friend, only to have him say “Bye Mikey!” like 2 miles later when things got vertical again.  Oh well…fun while it lasted!

 

The remainder of the day was actually a lot of fun…a few minor climbs, but lots of flowy singletrack goodness.  I was careful to drink often, as I was leery of dehydration at altitude, and I was feeling really good when I passed through the last water stop...rolling right through even though my Camelback went dry at that exact point…but there was only three miles to go, and I still had my bottle.

 

The next three miles were anything but easy, as we seemed to be travelling UP a REALLY REALLY nice downhill flow trail.  It was pretty much torture.  With about two to go, I caught up to my Rbikes teammate and local Palos riding legend Dennis (10X Leadville 100 finisher out trying something new).  After suffering through a couple brutally steep climbs, we were treated to an awesome downhill finish, replete with huge berms, tabletops, and step-up jumps…totally charged at the end of a 35 mile day.

 

Michelle and Dave’s family were at the finish, and we hung around to watch Dave and Matt knock out the end of Day One.  I think we were all a little shell-shocked (even Dave and Matt, who had done the event last year), but we all lived to fight another day.

 

DAY TWO

 

Colorado Trail

 

With Day One under my belt, one would think I’d wake up a bit less nervous.  This was not the case.  And it repeated itself EVERY day.  I was still having a hard time wrapping my brain around the enormity of this endeavor, and, quite frankly, it scared me.  I mean…it’s easy to question yourself when you are faced with 41 miles and 6000 feet of climbing…complacency is not an option.

 

I decided, along with Matt, to basically ride from Aid station to Aid station…in order to break things down for the mentality aspect.  I also counted climbs for the day…and Day Two would have 7 big ones.  At the start line, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting the gentleman I had voted for President of the United States in 2012 and 2016, former New Mexico governor and all-around badass Gary Johnson.  Mr. Johnson could NOT have been a nicer guy…we spoke of his recent completion of the Tour Divide (unsupported mountain bike ride along the Continental Divide from Banff, Canada, to Antelope Springs, New Mexico), and I asked if he’d done Breck before…which he had, in 2010.  This man is certainly a few pegs up from the rest of us in terms of things he has accomplished in his life, and it was a genuine pleasure meeting him.  This slight distraction didn’t alter my focus or my fear…and it was with those weighing heavier than my Camelback that I rolled off the line for the initial climb of the day.

 

5.9 miles and 1234’ later…I was still alive and feeling better…mostly because I was still alive.  I was able to stay on my bike for most of the climb, which was certainly a positive, but certain pitches were so steep that walking was actually the faster option, and I was rapidly learning when to throw in the towel and take some steps.  Aid One came on pretty fast after a scorching downhill, and was accompanied by a pleasant surprise…a chance encounter with one Rhonda Garner from New Zealand, whom I had met at the Pisgah Stage race in North Carolina back in 2014.  Super cool!  Once again, I was passed with a banana half-consumed by a flying Dave, so I jumped on the bike to ride with him for a few miles.  Rhonda ended up catching us, as did a nice lady from Ohio that I had followed downhill.  Dave and Ms. Ohio dropped off again when things went STRAIGHT up on the big climb of the day…another 1200+ footer…but in 3.1 miles.  Rhonda ground away and dropped me and a BUNCH of other guys on the way to the lead in the Cat 2-3 Women’s 40+ division…truthfully…it was a miserable experience…alternating between hiking and pedaling the smallest gear on my bike, but I topped out on the Colorado Trail at over 11,000 feet, and wound up by myself on a 6 mile descent down to Aid 2…where I caught Rhonda and a couple others, eventually passing them and then catching and passing my teammate Dennis…who had started 20 minutes in front of me with the Cat. 1s.  I felt super strong on the last climbs of the day, and was pretty pumped to have knocked another one off.

 

Day 3

 

Mt. Guyot

 

This one is gonna stick with me for a while.  My first DNF in a stage race, and the reason I didn’t get an “overall” time for this event.  However, mountain biking is a fickle beast, and you just never know what is gonna happen around the next corner…I’d been pretty lucky thus far…and my luck ran out.

 

Another day…another nervous start.  Another 1200 foot gain right out of the gate.  Matt was worried about warming up…I did NO such thing…and each day I was PLENTY warm by ½ mile in…in fact, I’d usually be breathing hard and trying to calm my racing pulse and get into a rhythm.  Again, I felt strong on the climb, and actually managed to pass some people on the way up, and, even MORE surprisingly, I continued my success on the downhill and managed to blow past some people on the descent.  I had discovered on the first day that somehow I was suddenly fast on the downhills…something that has never been a forte of mine…but I’m attributing it to the relatively less-techy trails they have in Colorado as compared to Pisgah and Transylvania…where there were many descents that basically forced my unskilled ass off the bike in the name of self-preservation.

 

The next climb was a KILLER.  It looked for all the world like we were riding across an open meadow…on a somewhat muddy, rocky trail, but I could NOT seem to move.  The grade was just significant enough to impede progress without LOOKING like you were going up.  There was a major change in scale as well…as this meadow opened up into a HUGE expanse of tundra…and we were reduced to a train of ants crawling along a rough-hewn dirt ribbon meandering towards the sky.  I don’t carry a watch or have a computer on my bike, but I’m guessing this was every bit of 40 minutes of grinding slog…pushing the bike about 98 percent of the time.  Each step was an agony.  I was literally taking it one step at a time, just concentrating on pushing forward.  Nothing I had done could have prepared me for this, with the possible exception of the 3000+ foot hike Michelle and I had done in Seward, Alaska the month prior…but at that time I wasn’t pushing a bike, nor was I at 11,000 feet above sea level.  It was, in short, torturous.  There were people at the top with Skittles, but I was too blown to grab any…plus it was cold up there and I wanted DOWN.

 

The trail down was pretty rutted…at times about 8 inches to a foot deep…which doesn’t leave much room for error when you are pushing 30 mph.  Add in a few large rocks…and things were VEEERRRY interesting.  I was rocking it though…passed about 4 people…had to walk one extremely techy section…and then it all went wrong.

 

BANG.  It was a sharp sound, followed by a second of clatter before I grabbed the rear brake, locked the wheel, and skidded off-trail to the left.  My first glance down I knew it was over.  I yelled “NOOOOOOOOOO” as I took in the carnage…the remains of my derailleur were tangled amongst the spokes of the back wheel…the chain in twisted disarray.  I climbed off the bike, flipped it over, and spent the next 5 minutes or so thanking and declining people that offered to help, while I removed the chain, and strapped the remains of the derailleur to the frame using a bandanna.  I then waited for an open spot, and started down the trail, using the remaining mile or so of downhill to my advantage (I even passed two people with no chain, lol).  Fortunately for me, Aid 2 was at Mile 17…the bottom of the hill…and I coasted right in.

 

I secured a ride home with a gentleman named Craig who was manning the Aid for a group of Carmichael Training Systems riders, then hung out for a while, cheering on Dave, Dennis, and another IL rider Jim…but no Matt ever showed up.  Strange.

 

It was a 45 mile ride back to Breckenridge through Hoosier Pass…and when I finally got cell service, I found out the Matt had suffered the same fate as me…a ripped-off derailleur at Mile 8, lol.  Craig dropped me at Breck Bike Guides, a shop he recommended, and they proceeded to order up a new derailleur and derailleur hanger immediately, as well as set me up with a Rocky Mountain Element as a rental for the next day’s start.

 

I missed out on some more great climbing and the descent off Georgia Pass, which Dave said was awesome…and now my Breck Epic will always have an asterisk.  Bummer.

 

Day 4

 

Aqueduct

 

Something about Day 4…at Pisgah, it nearly killed me, but at Transylvania, and again at this event, things really started to click for me.  In keeping with tradition, I was nervous as hell again before the start…my mornings usually consisted of waking early, tossing some breakfast down my throat, then sitting on the couch in my kit staring at that day’s course map and trying to wrap my brain around what was ahead.  Today’s offering was a 41 mile lap out to Keystone, with 6457 feet of climbing.  So many YIKES.

 

Our Washington Street start was a brief pavement foray, followed by a STEEP singletrack climb.  I had tried to dial back the intensity now that I had been relegated to the Grand Fondo category due to my DNF the day before, so I was rocking baggy shorts and my DrunkCyclist jersey…no race kit for this day…and that attitude seemed to have helped, as I was able to pedal past many of the people I’d been regularly seeing the first three days pretty easily on this initial climb.  The next two climbs/descents look pretty radical on paper, but have faded into the oblivion that is my memory, not because they weren’t hard or fun, but because climb number FOUR of the day was called…Vomit Hill.  It’ll be a long while before that moniker and the climb itself fade from recollection…1.5 miles and 817’ of vertical, much of which was hike-a-bike.  It was extremely challenging, and humbling as well, as the green category leader’s jersey of one of the women competitors passed me and a whole bunch of others whilst still pedaling…totally awesome.  I brought her back on the downhill and rode away on the ensuing flat trail, only to have her catch me again on the next climb…the BIG one of the day.  TWELVE MILES.  Yup.  12.  And 1400’ of climbing.  At least it was at an easier grade, as much of it was on a service road.  I found a great tempo, and rolled past a bunch of people on the way up.  After a couple false flats and some fun singletrack at the top, we were treated to the BEST downhill of the entire week…recouping all 1400 feet in a mere 3.1 miles of mind-blowing, twisting, jumping, high-speed singletrack.  Two guys from Colorado were following me down, and I asked a couple times if they wanted by, but they said I was doing just fine…and it was all smiles and high-fives when we bottomed out.

 

A couple more SUPER steep climbs finished out the day, and I once again caught and passed Dennis, making up the 20 minute difference in our starts, so I felt I was riding pretty well.  It was a LONG day in the saddle, however, and felt even longer than the 4 hours, 56 minutes it took me.  I was relieved at the finish,  but unlike the previous two stage races when I knew I had it knocked after Stage 4…I was faced with not only TWO more days, but also the HARDEST stage of the week on the morrow…Wheeler Pass.

 

Day 5

 

Wheeler

 

My friends who did Breck Epic last year could not stop talking about this one.  The big one.  The Queen Stage, in cycling parlance.  I knew it was going to hurt, and I knew I was going to have to work to finish it.  Oh…the nerves.

 

Rollout for the day was different than the previous 4, with riders seeded by their previous times/standings and taking off in waves of 10.  As a Grand Fondo guy, I was told to just jump into a wave in approximation with the people I’d finished with on the regular through the week (something that happens quite often in a stage race), so I ended up doing that…but then waiting a couple more waves to give myself some cushion, as I was not exactly expecting great things.  I ended up two waves behind Katie Compton…the winningest CX rider in US history and current world champion…just another WOW in this event…and another reason why mtb is such a cool sport…sharing the line with your heroes on the daily.

 

Out of the gate…we climbed.  The severity of the climb is best judged by the fact that the first Aid station was at mile FOUR…and after that…things got REALLY tough, lol.  I was feeling pretty strong, actually, and by the time things turned into a conga-line weaving it’s switchbacky way up and over 12,600 feet, I was almost enjoying myself.  Amazingly, I managed to stay positive even through the hour-long push to the top…although I’m going to have to say incredulity might have played a major part in keeping out the negative thoughts.  This was beyond the pale…far harder, higher, and tougher than anything I’ve ever done.  My chest was a bit tight when we got up and over 12k, but it was exhilarating to finally hit the top…the views of the 10 Mile Range were unparalleled, but I couldn’t very well stop and enjoy them.  I was with a couple of Euro dudes…I think they were speaking German?...and had a pretty big gap on the next group of riders, so I just hung on their tails as we navigated the technical singletrack up on the ridge.  Tons of rocks, roots from the tundra and scrubby trees and some mud bogs made things interesting, but I kept it upright and moving.  A last little kick to the top, and I felt I was really getting somewhere…then I realized I was less than 8 miles into the 25 mile day!

 

As if battling the terrain itself wasn’t enough…Wheeler had more in store for Mike.  After summiting and looking for the promised bacon and whiskey shots at the top that were unfortunately absent (at least somebody was there giving out MnMs…), I began the first descent off the pass.  In a horrible and not-so-fun coincidence from Stage 3…I had a problem arise a short way into the downhill, when I went slightly off-trail, then heard a hissing noise that I was HOPING was some grass caught in my gears…but ended up being a torn sidewall on the rear tire.  My rental Rocky Mountain Element was an excellent ride, and to ensure it was up to the task, the shop had replaced the worn front tire and tuned it to perfection…but apparently, it was either an errant rock or a thin sidewall that caused this bit of consternation…and I was gonna have to deal with it.  At 12,300 feet.  Oh boy.

 

Now comes the “don’t let this happen to you” part of the story.  Firstly…make sure when riding an unfamiliar bicycle, that you understand its nuances fully prior to engaging in a backcountry race at the top of a mountain range.  Like…know how to remove the wheels.  My Kona has a thru-axle with a quick-release…simple enough…but I paid ZERO attention to the absence of such a thing on the Rocky Mountain.  It was a thru-axle to be sure…but only had 6mm hex head bolts on each side of the bike.  I panicked and tried the non-drive side (which had “tighten” embossed on it and directional arrows)…but I could NOT get it to budge.  A rider heading past asked if I needed help, and I said “YEAH…I can’t get the damn wheel off!”  He stopped, and tried the OTHER side of the axle, and got it to break free.  I thanked him, grabbed the multitool back, and sent him on his way.  Whew.  Problem solved.  Wheel off, tire off, grab spare tube from my pack, go to pump it up to a round shape…and nothing happens.  Pull mini-pump off and try blowing into the valve…still nothing.  Cursory examination reveals a ½” tear in the tube!  Dammit.  ALWAYS MAKE SURE YOUR SPARE TUBE DOESN’T HAVE A HOLE IN IT!  Ahhh.  Now I’m starting to mildly panic…I DO NOT want another DNF…especially for something so STUPID.  Plus…I am MILES away from anything at this point…and walking out would be a terrible option.  I beg passing riders for a tube, and about the third guy stops and says he’s got one.  YES.  My HERO!  He pulls it out of his seat bag and says “It’s only a 26” tube, but it will work.”  Gah.  Disappoint.  But…what the hell…beggars can’t be choosers.  I thank him and wish him luck, and he departs.  I inflate the tube a bit with my mini-pump, and stretch it over the 29” rim, then slap the 2.3” wide tire on, grab a CO2 inflator…and hope.  Everything fills up, the tires seats nicely, and nothing goes BOOM.  I put all my tools away…start downhill again…and just PRAY.  Stretched to the max thin tube, hole in sidewall of tire…and about 8-1/2 miles to the next Aid station where I have another spare tube.  Oh…and let’s just add here that it is EASILY the day with the most sharp nasty rocks.

 

Totally out of my rhythm, I cautiously descend, then hit another steep rise that I misinterpret as the second big climb to the top of the pass.  Due to this miscalculation, I am SERIOUSLY surprised when the ACTUAL second big climb hits…and it is a crusher.  I had just bottomed out, when Dennis caught me.  I told him I’d flatted, then started up the climb and never saw him again…for a while.  The top of what another rider/blogger described as Mt. Goddammit just never seemed to arrive…and when it finally did…it was all kinds of awful.  The “trail” itself disappeared into a field of large, gnarly, loose rocks that one had to pay close attention to lest one find a foot disappearing into a gap and causing serious ankle damage.  As we are walking carefully across this area…carrying bicycles…the wind is gusting around 40 mph, some hail and then snow is blasting across our faces…and it’s just damn cold.  I wanted to get down.  Period.  Get me off this thing.

 

And then…there came the DOWN.  A friendly local with a LOT more bike-handling talent then me was at the precipice, and due to the extremity of the environment and the locale, I actually paused for a moment to have him take my picture.  He informed me that “the first ¼ mile or so is pretty boney, but rideable if you are good.  Then it is a flyer.”  Well…I’m not good.  I spent that first ¼ mile pretty much riding from rock garden to rock garden, then getting off and walking through them.  The switchbacks were so steep, I nearly fell off the mountain trying to WALK down them.  Not very high on the fun scale.  But then it opened up…and the fun readings started to peg the meter.  I had to ride with some reservation, given the circumstances of my rear wheel, so I was choosing the butter lines instead of rolling through the chunky stuff like I’d been doing earlier in the week…all the while mentally crossing my fingers, lol.  This was a SIX MILE downhill…and my arms were screaming from brake pump whilst flowing along behind a group of about 5 riders.  And then we all stopped.  Huh?  We were being pointed back up the hill, because apparently, we’d blown a turn.  A bunch of people were like…”no way…this HAS to be right,” but some of us believed the guys who told us to spin, and had to HIKE back uphill about ½ mile.  Very not fun…but yet another challenge this day would toss my way.  I made it down to the next Aid…FINALLY…and got myself a spare tube, so at least there was SOME semblance of relief as I rolled out to take on the final 8 miles.

 

The final challenge of the day for me…was that I had misread the map in the morning.  I was expecting a nice downhill for the finish, as all of the previous days had done.  I knew I was riding across the Breckenridge resort, and the right turns made things hard (uphill) and left turns made things easy (downhill).  I swear that last 8 miles was more like 16.  I was starting to bonk, and just when things started looking up (I caught Dennis AGAIN, as he’d gotten past me during my course correction), there would be another short, steep incline.  Alas, my downhill never came, and I was sooooo thankful when the finish line finally emerged from the woods.  Definitely the toughest day, and probably one of the hardest days I’ve ever had on a bike…I was shattered.  5 hours, 38 second.  For 25 miles.  I had done 4:56 for 41 miles the day before.  Ugh.  Just.  One.  More.  Day.

 

Day 6

 

Gold Dust

 

I FINALLY hit the starting line without exorbitant amounts of stress and/or concern about finishing/surviving.  The LAST day was to be the easiest, a mere 30 miles with a paltry 3800 feet of climbing…and a super-fun singletrack section to boot.

 

Since I was basically out of the “real” race, I decided it was time to have fun and ride with my buds.  Dave had been doing well, and not only was he still IN the thing, having finished each day, he was close to the podium for the Clydesdale class (riders over 190 lbs).  Matt had been finishing consistently, but was in the same boat as me, having DNF’d Day 3.  I decided we should all ride together…so Matt and I started with Dave in his 10 person wave.

 

I ended up with the holeshot, and hit the woods with a full head of steam, my legs responding well to the immediate climb.  Then I realized something was amiss…my back was SOAKING wet.  It would seem that my Camelback hadn’t closed properly, and was now leaking all down my back and into my shorts…unacceptable.  I had to stop and pull off, told Dave I’d catch him later, and had things back in order just as Matt went by, so I jumped on his wheel.  Because this WAS Breck Epic, and even the easy days are not very easy…this climb was 9.5 miles long, much of it in steep singletrack.  I passed Matt and then made my way through traffic and caught Dave, but keeping all of us together quickly proved to be an impossibility, as everyone’s climbing pace was different…plus, there were a LOT of people on the trail.  I decided to act as a domestique to Dave, and pull him around the course for the day…fun for me, and hopefully good enough for him to make it up to the third place spot in Clyde.  He stayed on my wheel for the most part…I had to wait for him on a couple of steeper sections and areas where we were passing slower riders…but we made it up, and then the fun began.  We ditched our Camelbacks at the first Aid station, and in typical Dave fashion of the week…he took off without me downhill.  It took me about a mile and half to catch him, but after that, we enjoyed the hell out of some sweet, sweet singletrack, followed by a long 7 mile gravel road climb back up to Aid 2, where we grabbed some PBR handup beers, before the FINAL DESCENT.

 

Dave was riding with caution, I was riding with a degree of elation.  I wasn’t sure when I came into this week if I’d prepared quite enough to knock this out, and I was happy and proud to know that I’d done it.  The final miles ticked by quickly, and before I knew it, Dave and I were high-fiving across the finish line.  Matt was only about 5 minutes back, and Dennis had finished about 18 minutes in front of us.  Our other IL brethren Jim came across and celebrated his FIFTH finish of the Breck Epic…baller.  A couple bites to eat…and then straight to a bar…which is how things like this SHOULD end.

 

 

Wrap-up and Retrospect

 

 

My Kona never did get fixed…a miscommunication caused the necessary parts to end up in Ohio when they needed to be in Breckenridge…so I rode the last three days on the rental Rocky Mountain Element.  Contrary to this being a point of consternation, I was quite happy with the performance of that bike in relation to that of my own.  The 120mm of travel was juuuuuust a bit more plush, and I felt it helped in keeping the rear wheel on the ground when climbing over chunky rocks…so it likely saved me some additional walking time.  I picked up my newly repaired Kona before heading home the day after the race.

 

This experience would not have been NEARLY as fun without Matt, Dave, Dave’s family, Dennis, and Jim…plus the addition of Mike G and his two boys who stopped by on their way home from California…and, of course, my lovely wife Michelle, who spent the week doing yoga, visiting her family, hiking, biking, standup-paddleboarding, and knocking off her first 14,000 foot peak on the day I finished the race.  Every night we had a blast out at dinner, and it was really great to have someone to drink with after repeated days of SERIOUSLY earning a drink!  Certainly a highlight of my trip.

 

The Breck Epic itself.  Just…wow.  So well put together, so well-organized…and in a truly world-class location.  The trails were quite simply some of the best I have ridden in 29 years as a mountain biker.  The routes were challenging…but after each and every day, you could not help but express how much FUN it was…even if you were puking on your shoes an hour before.  I set this race as the final tick on my bucket list, and I’m so happy I did…now I can be DONE.

 

So…yeah.  That’s it.  I’m done.  Retired.  Bucket list complete.

 

 

 

 

 

Until somebody comes up with something dumber for me to try.