On Sunday, Cheryl, the kids and I ventured out to Sandilands for a mountain bike race. We've never been there but heard the trails are good. The “adventure” of the day was getting there, or rather how we eventually got there. Looking back, we were about 3 kilometers away from where we needed to be but took a wrong turn, then got some bad directions from a kind eyed stranger that took us waaay down a gravel road. After many tears, sobbing and angrily muttered words, we finally came upon a paved road - the sign read: Moose (f’n) Lake! FFFFFFFFaaaaaaaahhhh! We got a map from the park attendants and tried to make our way back to the Sandilands and wherever the race site was. We stopped again for directions and were lucky to spot a vehicle with a mountain bike on top which we followed to the race. What should have taken us an hour and 40 minutes took us about 5 hours. I have no idea where the time went. The kids were heartbroken to miss their races but were happy to see their cousins (and have their parents race/leave them alone #winwin). The course was really good – flowy, rooty and fun, but my race lasted about ¾ of one lap (of three) before my legs lost their will to give’r (maybe sitting in a car for 5 hours will do that, maybe I’m just slow #loselose), Cheryl was feeling good and finished in second place in Sport. There are a boatload of trails to explore and I was glad to (f’n) finally get a chance to ride them – even if it did test our family’s mettle.
Stupid.
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