Perfect weather for a bike ride . . .

October 29, 2006

The Next C'Dude Ride - RESCHEDULED!!!

Pay attention, kids ... this is sometimes a neccessary evil:

I'm headed to Chi-Town on family biz on the 11th, so the widely publicized C'Dude ride that WAS to take place on that date has been moved out:

Please make a note of the new date:

Saturday, November 18th, 7:00AM!

Hopefully it will be dry, but there are never any guarantees this time of year, ya know? Dress warmly, and be ready to enjoy a brisk pace and some hot coffee and pastries, ya'll. It's the joint! Be there!

Ride details are available at the main webpage, so won'tcha nav that way?

Le Team C'Dude Page



PS: the ankle is healing... so, let's get back to the business of riding to work, why don't we? That is what this is all about, ya know?

October 26, 2006

IT'S HERE! Tune in!




Welp, this is it -- the culmination of years of preparation (without my knowledge), the training, the goofiness, the singing in the shower, the trials, the annoying my cube-neighbors at work, the cassette tapes, the endless miles of microphone wire stretched across the decades....

It's time...to audition - * LIVE *!

Tune in TOMORROW:
that's FRIDAY, OCTOBER 27th!
Starting around 6:30AM, or there-abouts... BE THERE!

LOCAL KANSAS CITY FOLLOWERS of DUDE: 99.7 Mhz on your FM dial!

INTERNATIONAL GROUPIES of DUDE: Streaming audio available at...
KYYS - LISTEN LIVE
(Don't be discouraged by the need to sign up - it doesn't spam you or anything)

Seriously, I appreciate ALL of the support from family and friends over these past weeks! It's been CRAZY, the voting, the hoping!

This is a rare, one-shot opportunity to do what I honestly believe what I was meant to do. Honestly, if every other day you have someone on your voicemail telling you that "you should be in radio", eventually one has to realize that it's probably a sign. Fingers crossed, kids!!!

October 24, 2006

Tejas Wrap-Up, Part Three

More ramblings, perhaps? Of course! That's what this blog is all about, really...

Here's some more details about the ride itself, for your reading pleasure...

It was a strange feeling, first of all, driving down to Texas in the middle of the night. My preferred method of interstate travel starts with a long, overnight drive to avoid traffic and the usual construction issues that usually happen along the highways. Unfortunately, this didn't do wonders for my sleep clock and personal awareness. Leaving at midnight Wednesday, and driving until I arrived in the afternoon the same day made it seem like it was Thursday already. All afternoon, even though it was only 4:00pm, I kept thinking it was 7:30pm or something - very odd.

I slept like a rock that night, on a comfortable bed.

The next day - race day - we rose and began to ready ourselves for the task ahead. Another weird thing about the Tejas ride was the fact it started in the evening. This was a first, at least for a ride of this size. I'd done evening rides before, but we're talking after-work rides of 20 miles or so - you ride at 6pm, and you're done by 8pm. In this case, we were starting a 48-hour event at 5:30 PM. One lap of daylight, and then it's lights-on for the next 8-10 hours. WEIRD! But, smart, on the part of the race organizers. In an event where sleep deprivation is as much a part of training as endurance rides are, having the riders make it through the first night right off the bat probably prevented a lot of sleep-deprivation-related issues, because the sun will come up before the sleepies have a real chance to take hold. 5:30 came, the whistle blew, and we were off and riding!

I started WAY in the back of the pack. Even though drafting was allowed for part of the first lap, I chose not to participate much. I eventually worked my way up to DT about halfway up to the lime plant at mile five, and stuck in with him for a bit, along with some other random riders. I figured, this was probably the only chance I'd get to talk to ANYONE for the rest of the ride, since a strict no-drafting policy was to ensue after the first stop-sign came. After reaching the first turn on the magnificent course, we enjoyed a nice tailwind to the first stop sign, and then turned southwest onto the back-side of the loop. Considerably less climbing here, it seemed, save for the steady rollers, I was really enjoying myself. Eating up hill after hill, and savoring the LONG downhills, this ride was gonna be a blast!

We passed by a new development called "The Retreat", an up-scale looking community that was still under construction - and the roadside construction barrels and such made it easy to call off the miles, as they provided the needed mental landmarks that helped pass the time. The bike was performing nicely, as I climbed and descended along the nicely rolling road - any doubts I'd had about the Cannondale being "neccessary" in my stable were quickly put to rest. This is a GREAT bike, and it would continue to prove itself comfortable and responsive mile after mile for the next couple days - which is something that one could never say about a Cannondale in the past.

In the last five miles of the course came my favorite section. All of the cumulative altitude we'd gained over the course of the loop was about to be paid back in full in the course of three miles. A curve, a split in the road, and then a long steady climb to the back ridge of the loop, and then finally a LONG, probably two-mile long downhill followed at a steep pitch. Any complaints riders might have had about the first section of climbing on the course were probably put to rest on this section, as one realizes things would be far worse if we'd been riding in the opposite direction. This was SOME hill. Only a short, 1/2 mile flat section separated this long hill from another long downhill that curved and plunged down to a bridge. Usually, speeds without pedaling would top out in the upper 30 MPH range, and then BAM - the momentum would be sapped up quickly as the road pitched back up after the bridge, and led riders up to the start/finish line. Numbers were shouted out, lap times checked, and then you'd start over again. It was deceiving at first glance, but this was a technical course. The nearly nine miles of climbing on the first section had some riders calling it "Colorado-like", and the constant rollers on the backside of the loop, though not as steep, were reminiscent of brevet season in Kansas City. It's truly a course with something for everyone.

After the first lap, which was clicked off in an hour and five minutes, it was clear that from here in we'd be in the dark for a while. The sun was dipping, along with the temperatures and jackets, warmers, earbands and reflective vests came out of bags and into service. Head-lights flickered to life, and tail-lights came aglow. It was a magical moment, and on this first moonless night we'd all learn the course details, inch by inch feeling our way along. I was once again extremely pleased with my generator set-up, not at all concerned with its weight and supposed "rolling resistance", as a clean, white beam of light shone brightly in front of me, lighting up the road, the signs, and any obstacles that happened to be there. Fumbling with battery lights just isn't worth the trouble anymore - even on long, fast downhills the beam was spectacular, allowing full-speed descents without fear of something sneaking out of the dark to dismount me. Again, my thanks to Peter White for bringing these fine systems to the states. Simply awesome!

Riding up past the Lime plant on Park Road 21 and then onto the longest part of the climbing brought me up onto a plateau, which was pretty neat during the day, but downright mystical at night. The lights in the horizon were so far away that they flickered and twinkled just like distant stars, and airplanes on final approach could be seen miles away, beacons flashing silently across the night sky. Only the rush of the occasional passing truck broke up the scene.

The trucks were truly driven by professionals, and it was hard to believe I was in Texas. Tales of beer bottles and close-calls flowed through my head, but really there was nothing of the sort - save for one solitary yeahoo on Friday afternoon. The heavy trucks gave a wide berth, and passed with true care. It was nice.

There was the occasional night-time weirdness on that first night: first, the continuously dropping temperatures also made it hard to believe I was in Texas, as lap after lap I added layer after layer to keep warm. There wasn't much to see, but there was a lot to hear. On the upper two-mile portion of the loop, a bull hollered at two of us as we passed by, with a frustrated and confused "mooooouuuuhh!!!", seemingly coming right from the fence line as we rolled past. That was loud, and a little freaky. Then there was the late-model red Ford Escort that did a slow fly-by while I climbed the steepest and longest part of the climb on the next lap. With hazard flashers going, I assumed it was one of the officials checking on riders, but it was not. The Escort, complete with two teenage boys, had a flat rear tire and was slowly attempting to make it back to town. The smell of hot rubber was thick in the air as they slowly rolled past me, barely going faster than I was. Eventually, they gave up and ended up parking it on the shoulder a little later up the road, walking home from there. It was entertaining the next day to ride past this car over and over, and eventually see them back out, with a parent, trying to fix the flat tire. There was a spark of recognition from the driver as I rode past, nearly 12 hours later -- "yep. I'm STILL riding my bicycle." He looked confused, amazed....priceless.

Lap after lap I ticked off the miles, promising myself a rest after the first hundred miles were tucked away. During lap five, a real visual treat; as Orion began to rise on the eastern horizon I rolled up the last part of a climb on the back-half of the loop, atop the highest portion of the course. As I rounded off the top, I could see the next four miles of the course - marked only by the lonely taillights of the riders that were already up there. All evenly lined up, with little blotches of headlight beam visible in front of them, it was a beautiful sight: no cars, just bikes scattered along a perfectly winding road that merged almost seamlessly with the brilliant and cold night sky. As I began to descend to catch them, the super-cooled air near a lake snuck into my open jersey, and I pulled my zipper up quick to compensate for the 40 degree air. It was a fantastic moment.

Unfortunately, the demon of sleep crept up to smack my dreams down a little, as I took the promised sleep break at the end of my first century. My loose plan was to ride 100, sleep for 2 hours, and repeat. Plenty of time to do this -- unfortunately, I was tired enough to either sleep through my alarm, or at least smack the snooze button faster than I could reach consciousness. I slept for a full SEVEN hours instead!!! A full nights' rest!! Well, no sense getting upset about it -- it was what it was, and so I rose up in the REALLY cold 35º air of the early morning, and prepared to get back on the bike.

That's when difficulty started to hit me. Either on the way from the bike to the tent, or vice versa, I had twisted my ankle on a rock or branch or something, and upon getting back on the road that next morning, my right ankle had a slight twinge to it, out back by the heel and tendon. Uh-oh... but, similar to the ankle problem that hit my left leg during MV24 I decided that I could ride through it and it would work itself out. I started the first of my next set of laps, and rode as best I could.
Each lap, unfortunately, became more tense than the next as the back of my right leg began to seize up with sharper and sharper pain, and walking around while off the bike became harder and harder. This was not good! How much longer would I be able to "ride this off?" I began to think about my options as I popped two Aleve, and continued on.

This was frustrating: my knees, legs, arms, shoulders, neck, and will to continue were all fine; no cramps, no food issues, no stomach issues, no headaches -- just this one, nagging, one-inch by one-inch section of achilles/ankle pain was making things really nasty, and it was becoming difficult to do what I've become good at: climbing. Sitting or standing, the pain worsened, despite Icy/Hot rubs and Naproxen Sodium intake after each lap. After 120 more miles, and the beginning of another sundown, it was decision-time.

Knowing that I'd slept too long already, and that my average per lap was starting to drop because of the injury that would not yield, I began to realize that I was not going to have enough time to get 500 miles inside the alotted 48-hour cutoff. Frustrated, and saddened by losing the chance to ride into another mystical night, I wrestled with my options and eventually decided to NOT risk a permanent injury. I was already limping after walking only a few feet off the bike, and the pain was sharp and defining. Like a knife to the back of the heel, just above the ankle, my decision was being made for me, and I wasn't happy about it. I wanted to continue -- but at what cost, considering I might not even be an official finisher after it would be all said and done?

Gut check time - time to be the bigger, smarter person. I reluctantly unpinned my rider number from the back of my reflective vest, and hobbled over to the official's tent near the start/finish. It was a long walk/limp of personal shame - but perhaps the walk of a smarter man, a man that wanted to walk tomorrow, rather than finish just short of 500 miles today and perhaps not being able to ride for months afterward.

I handed my rider bib to the lap tracking team, and hobbled silently away.
The official reason for withdrawl read "injury" - a first for me. Hopefully the last.

For the next 12 hours I would sit by the roadside in the cold night air, watching rider after stronger-than-I rider pass by in the night. Occasionally, after a long while in the chair, I would get up and examine the notion of at least, after 220 miles, getting a new PERSONAL best -- what more could it hurt to just break 300 miles with four more laps??? Then I would walk ten feet, and nearly be brought to my knees with the reminder of pain. This stinks.

Like a shackle around my soul, the pain kept me lashed to the chair. I WANTED to ride, but something wasn't letting me - and I was sad. I felt horrible, guilty, mad, somber - all at once. But, sometimes it's like that.

Severe saddle sores for the Warbird once upon a 300K, a bum knee for DT once upon a 400K, and now my turn with this ankle/tendon issue. Every man has his turn - and true, I'm not getting any younger. Sit down, suck it up, and rest that leg. You'll live to ride again. Despite all my training, and my clear mental approach to this event, this is proof that sometimes it's just not up to me. Injuries can't be planned for, forseen, or sometimes even prevented. I just have to exercise caution next time, make sure that I'm taking every precaution that I can -- no more distant campsites, or long dark walks to and from the tent -- next year's site will be closer to the road, and clear of walking obstacles. That's probably the best I can do! Perhaps next year I'll rent a van, and that way I won't even NEED a tent to sleep and change clothes. Lot's of time to plan, but I've learned more valuable lessons, and more importantly how to deal with things that I don't have complete control over. It could have been a rash of flat tires, a frame failure, or heaven-forbid a mal-attentive motorist that might have caused a more serious injury -- there is SO much that hangs in the balance out on these long rides, and I can't control it all.

A simple ankle twist, and I'm out of the running --- but it could have been a lot worse, and I know that.

Time to get past it, and ride on.



Several days later, here I am feeling better, walking better, and already planning next year. It'll be a nice, long, steady winter - and spring will be here in less than 80 days.

I'll be back. Solo Tejas 500 in 2007, with no regrets!
The ankle will heal - and so will my constitution.

First things first --- as noted below:
- Lose 20 lbs., slow and correctly. Keep it off.
- Cross train - strengthen the upper core to help counter-act the lower body.
- More fast centuries during the summer.
- No riding until the ankle is healed. Then, start slow again.
- No rush - it's gonna be winter, after all. Look to spring, and the 200K!

Tejas Wrap Up - Part Two

Ok, more ramblings from the road...

A few more days have passed, and the ankle is getting better - at least I can walk on it now, and not have sharp shooting pain - the pain is more dull now, and there is a general tightness to it, but it's serviceable. I can walk longer distances now, etc. Not sure if my doctor needs to see this or not - I think if it's getting better, that should be good enough - but that's me in a nutshell: unless it's bleeding or has been seperated from my body, my doctor doesn't get to see me. This isn't life-threatening - so I'm gonna deal with it.

The REAL test will come this weekend, more than likely, when I plan on putting the C'Dale back on the road for a short recovery-style ride, with moderate climbing to see if the thing will flare up again. I suppose if THAT ride makes it WORSE, then I'll probably go have it looked at. It's a long winter, and hopefully there will be enough time for a rapid recovery. I remember a few situations during the ride where I was walking back from/to the tent, and I side-stepped a rock or something and might have twisted my ankle. I'm hoping THAT was the case, and not something on the bike that caused it.
Time will tell.

To confirm that suspicion I've taken the tape measure to the bikes again, and have made direct comparisons between the training bike and the racing bike.

Step #1 was to change out the pedals. Purchased in 2002, the Shimano PD-M959 pedals I've been running have worn a little and there is noticable play in the bearings - while they still spin smooth, I am able to physically manipulate the pedal body over the axles and introduce deflection of about 1mm - which isn't much, but when amplified to the ankle it might have at least exascerbated the injury. I swapped the pedals out because of this finding, to newer - but heavier - PD-M520 models that were previously on the fixed gear. They only have about 300 miles on them. The main differences are in the pedal axles, and seals, but they are generally pretty good. This might be a good opportunity to eyeball some pricier, lighter, beefier pedals from Crank Brothers, but not sure yet. These 520's will get me thru the winter and spring brevets for sure. That solves the pedal deflection issue!

The other fit issue I discovered was that the seatpost on the C'dale was about 2mm taller than the seatpost on the training bike. While this is not a huge margin, it IS a difference, and might also have exacerbated the injury in the guise of possible over-extension of the achilles and ankle. I'm now convinced, with this discovery, that the initial injury occured OFF the bike, because the seat height hasn't changed between the training bike and the race bike at any time, even for Tinbutt in July. After 12-hours in the saddle at Tinbutt, there were no injuries, no knee issues, etc, and certainly no ankle issues. That solidifes something I had read once about knee issues and tolerances between bicyclists running multiple bicycles; The training bike and the race bike should be within 3mm of each other to avoid any fit issues when transitioning from one bike to the other. So, having said that, I can drop the saddle 2mm and not experience any fit issues with knees or other joints, but may in the process improve recovery of the ankle by avoiding further over-extension. We'll see if that comes true or not, but it makes sense, and with that 2mm drop, the two bikes are nearly identical in fit now.

So, that takes care of the bicycle - I'm not changing anything else at this point.

The rest of the package HAS to change, however - 20-lbs. makes a huge difference, and so my personal weight-loss struggles continue. It's my winter project, for sure, and I should be able to come back in the spring lighter and stronger. That should make the brevets easier and make speed training more productive. No more t-shirt rides - just a few CommuterDude rides here and there to break things up, but other than that it's fast centuries starting in the late spring. The first 200K will be strictly for base-building, and after that I start the speed runs. Assuming I can get back to the 18 MPH average (with stops) centuries I used to be able to turn out, the first couple hundred miles at Tejas NEXT year should be easier to click off, which will buy me more off-bike time if I need it.

Of course, the ultimate off-bike time goal would be sleeping a full night AFTER I polish off 400 miles, so we'll be working towards that goal as well, likely with a 600K attempt without sleep next May. We'll see how that goes, too!

So, my personal best mileage still sits at 290 miles from MV24, but last weekend was the closest I've been in a LONG time.

I'm ready to get past this injury, and get on with getting ready for next year
already! That, and getting past the nearly 20 black-fly and mosquito bites I got while changing my only flat tire near sundown on Friday night. And that was WITH bug-spray applied. I think that stuff had expired or something. Bug bites are a pain. Literally. Oh well! At least it didn't rain!

Jinx for next year! ;)

October 22, 2006

Tejas Wrap-Up - Part One

I don't have time to type much, but here's a few points - mainly for myself, for next time:

MINUSES:

1) need better time management between laps - need help waking up from sleep breaks
2) have support work in shifts - support each other as well as rider
3) Two-Man team? not a bad idea, considering the mileage DT and I massed ALONE.
4) More REAL food & Carboplex, not SE anymore (need something cheaper, more flexible)
5) Training, training, training:
a) more speed work at the century-level, to keep average consistent
b) commuting is good, but need distance on weekends, too, even if it means a break from riding during the week.
c) fewer miles this year is NOT what killed it - it was just SPEED & time management.
6) Figure out what happened to the ankle/achilles tendon - and prevent it.
a) right pedal on Cannondale is loose at bearing - replace it!
b) avoid campsite where it's a long walk from car to camp - avoid ankle twists
c) get cruise control for the car, or rent a van w/ cruise - ankle in one position like that for 12 hours might have been a factor.
7) Buy DT some better tires.




PLUSSES:

1) it was FUN!
2) I learned more stuff - always good.
3) I was never fatigued or sore, and never cramped!
4) only one saddle sore
5) the sky at night ALONE was worth the ride.
6) I *LOVE* the course
7) the injury was the ONLY reason I stopped
8) The support we had was tremendous!
9) the fireplace
10) a single halogen lumotec is PLENTY of light - LOVE IT
11) Only one flat tire, and it happened at the start/finish line - no field repairs
12) IT WAS FUN!
13) the super-car caravan on Saturday AM (16 (no lie - SIXTEEN cars) ferraris porsches and lamborghinis on the way to a morning golf game?)
14) IT WAS FUN!
14a) MUCH stronger riders than me ALSO went home as DNFs.
15) IT WAS FUN!
16) VERY well run event - EXTREMELY well run!
17) cruise control for the car. that drive sucked.
18) only ONE jerk on the road.
19) the training I HAD worked well - had I not slept so long, I would have been on a perfect pace for 500 miles - (but, again like MV24, the sleep monster gets me in the end.)


There is a little of a been-there; done-that feeling about Tinbutt and Tejas now.
Thinking next year I might host DT up this way, and try Iowa 24-Hour for something new - but that's still open for discussion, too.

BUT, it comes back to vindication - if you can't read between the lines, I was NOT an official Tejas 500 finisher this year, so part of me looks to next year, and how to get one of those nice trophies. DT and I have talked, and it looks like Tejas again next year for sure -- he wants to get a finish, and that's good enough for me! Heck, *I* want a finish, too. There is no reason I can't do it.

Much much more to come about Tejas - stay tuned! I had to get this stuff down, tho, before too much time passed.

October 17, 2006

The beast is upon me.






It's HERE!!!


THE TEXAS TIME TRIALS!


The full write-up, coming after the big ride wraps up!
See you on the road around Cleburne! WHOOO!!!

The shape of things to come!

HOLY MOLEY!

Well, kids -- in a previous post, actually the one JUST before this one, I had all but given up hope of becoming the next "KC Radio God". The voting was over, the polls announced, and I hadn't even made the top ten. Oh well... I just don't know enough people, that's all! I still appreciate all the support I got.

Life was about to go on....

Then the phone rang! I got an official invitation to come into the studio at 99.7 KYYS and audition ON AIR with the morning show, regardless of my voting status, because they liked my tape and style! DANG!!!! REALLY???!!! YES! I'LL BE THERE!!

So, Next Friday, October 27th, besure to tune into 99.7FM in Kansas City to hear how horribly I lock up and collapse into a pool of my own drool at around 7:00am central time. Or, you can soak it up on the web with streaming audio at www.KYYS.com!

Either way, it'll be good for a laugh -- I won't say WHY you'll be laughing, but, you know!

Wish me luck!

October 10, 2006

Vote for ME! Please!!!

To everyone that voted for me, thanks for all of your support -- the voting is in, and (sadly) it wasn't me in the top-three -- this time.

However, I'm still pursuing this - this was an excellent opporunity, and a great chance to be a part of a radio station that I grew up with! Officially, the final votes don't create a final decision, so I'm still fighting!

Thanks to all of you that put me here!!

Stay tuned for more bike stories!

October 7, 2006

The Tejas Countdown begins!

Welp, less than two weeks between me and 500 miles of fun!

And, to be honest, I'm not even really that concerned about it, which is REALLY out of character for me. I guess lately I've been putting things more in perspective - it is, after all, JUST A BIKE RIDE. That may be a slight over-simplification, but after this last weekend with my father being in the ICU at the hospital (still there as I write this, actually - but getting better) , and various other family things happening, this huge bike ride is nothing to get anxious about. If anything, it should provide me a WHOLE lot of "me time", to continue thinking about the big picture, and such. In the process of figuring things out, I'll get a major dose of self-worth when it's all said and done. I plan to finish - nothing more. I make no promises about how fast I'll finish, or how I'll eat, or what my off-bike strategery will be -- I just plan to finish. There is a 48-hour cutoff, and I'm treating it like a brevet - because that's the kind of ride I am. And, taking the math into consideration, with 48 hours to work with, I only have to average slightly faster than I would on a traditional ACP brevet to complete the task. I think I can manage 10.4 MPH for a couple days. Of course, I'll be faster than that ON the bike -- what it means is I'll have plenty of time to sleep if I need to, eat when I need to, and ENJOY the event. There are far more talented people there that will finish ridiculously fast, with crew and all helping along; and that's FANTASTIC for them -- I look up to them -- but I'm no longer trying to BE them, or BEAT them. All I have to do it beat MYSELF at the mental wresting match that will, certainly, have me up against the ropes of self-worth and consititution at least three of four times during the course of the journey. No biggie. I have a LOT to pull from that will keep me moving. I won't bore you with it here: I'm saving it for the road around Cleburne, Texas.

I'm also following these basic packing techniques:

I owe this one to the Warbird: how to pack for a REALLY long ride:
Step 1) open duffle bag.
Step 2) insert EVERY last ribbon of cycling clothing you own.
Step 3) close bag.

That oughta cover it.

Food? Bring EVERYTHING. You never know what you'll be hungry for. Just have stuff to eat and drink. Good stuff. Slow-burn stuff. And some SE. Don't pre-mix ANYTHING.

Bike? Just ride it. Bring some tools, and some spare tubes, maybe an extra tire. If things get THAT bad, it wasn't meant to be anyways - and it's just a bike ride.
Don't bring a spare bike - don't stress the small stuff. If you maintain your bike well enough, you know what you need to know, and you've seen what you need to see. Ride. That's it. Just RIDE.

The entry fee is paid, the check cleared, and the T-shirt is waiting for me.
Time to get this thing DONE, so I can go on some coffee rides and stop training.

Next year -- brevets ONLY. It's a Paris year, baby. I don't know if I'm going yet - so don't ask me - but I'm at least gonna qualify. If I can pull off 800K in 48 hours, certainly I can pull off 600K in 40 hours next May.
And if I can't make Paris -- there's a lot of 1200K's stateside I can hit, and I'll feel JUST as good about things!

So, wish me luck, and we'll see you in the Lone Star State in 13 days!!!
Roll the 500, baby!!!!

October 3, 2006

Radio Needs Me.

I NEVER BEG, but now I HAVE to:

A local radio station, one that I've been listening to since I was a CHILD, is holding open auditions to fill an open spot on their morning show! I *HAD* to try out, and I did, and now the entry is posted for YOUR VOTE!

Please go to www.KYYS.com and click on the links to the "Next KC Radio God", and then look for "group 5", and vote for that familiar face, PLEASE!


Only one vote per person, so tell a friend!

AHHH! I can't stand it! It's nuts!
It's crazy! People have been telling me for years taht I should be in radio, and this is a legitimate shot -- it's not a contest, it's the real deal, contract and all. Help a Dude out! Put me on the air! Make me ride my bicycle to Fairway, KS every morning! I'll do it!

Ok -- plea complete. I appreciate your vote!