Cars, More Wind, and Races

My car finally let me know via the odd, German brake pad warning light symbol what I had known for months - that I indeed needed new brakes up front.  To add exasperation and exclamation to the warning light, my car (his name is Bullitt, from the Steve McQueen movie, and that my car is silver) let loose with the check engine light and oil service lights.  At night, my dash display gives the interior of my car the appearance of the Studio 54 dance floor.  So, knowing how expensive stuff is to fix and maintain on my car, I employed a co-worker to do the labor for a small fee.  I bought all the parts and fluids and filters and brought them over to his house yesterday.  Even though he eschewed my questions regarding his ability, I took the liberty to print both the directions for changing the front brakes and changing the oil for my car model and year.  He laughed at me while tossing the instructions in one of the many receptacles in his large garage.  I handed him the keys and went for a run, one of those nerve bending runs in a strange area.  I took my phone with me just in case I ended up halfway to Kansas.  My iPod is no longer functioning, so I had no company, no music, and no idea where I was.

When I made it back to my mechanic-friend's house, he had one wheel off my car and my instructions scattered, in some sort of order, around his tools, and was referring to them with a scowling face.  I expected him to be nearly finished when I got back and instead he hadn't even removed the first brake caliper.  So, I changed and began helping him.  Once he realized I intended to dismantle and otherwise discard the brake wear sensor, things went quickly.  We (he) finished up everything down to the air filter and I was on my way home by 6:30pm.  Next up, he's flushing and refilling my radiator to meet the soon to be too hot weather.

My hamstring is still slightly tight and feels as though it could give way, snapping, like a Hindenburg tether.  I decided to just do my daily 45 minute speed walk today and not run, which I'm not missing at all with the 40 mph winds coming down the mountains (sick-of-wind).  It's fine since I race 50 miles in a week, 50 more miles in another week, and then fumble through a three day mountain bike stage race in Salida the following week.  Yeah, May will be busy.  I'm intending it to be shorter, consistent, frequent efforts to slingshot me into the monthly 100 milers beginning in June with San Diego.

Time for some IPA hydration on this late Friday afternoon...