Oleta is all-righta!

What's green and stays out all night?

Patty O' Furniture!

OK, so I fnally remembered my favorite silly St. Patrick's Day joke. 

(Who's old?)

The corned beef is in the slow cooker. 

With... you know.

There's a stash of Guinness Chocolate Walnut Toffee Cake in the freezer, in case the corned beef, cabbage, carrots and potatoes in Guinness aren't enough.

So - all set for the St. Patty's feast later! 

Good, that leaves time for some blarney and blather!

Is it weird to give your camera a name?  I think I'll name mine Duke.  

Name this tune:

Straightnin' the curves

Flattenin' the hills

Someday the mountain might get 'em

But the law never will.

Recognize it?  (Now, who's old?)

I'm sure Waylon Jennings wasn't really talking about my camera, but that's what it does.  Flattens the hills and straightens the curves better than Bo and Luke Duke in the ole General Lee!

At Oleta State Park in North Miami, the mountains may never get ya, but the roots and the rocks will!

For all you folks who think you need to be in the mountains to ride full suspension mountain bikes, go ride Oleta.  Then get back to me. 

This is Miami.  We don't need no stinkin' mountains!

Granted I didn't stop to take pictures with Duke on any of the climbs, or any of the drops either. 

The climbs and drops are even rootier and rockier than the just plain rooty and rocky spots, where I did finally stop to attempt photos.  Photos which by no means give you even a hint of the feel of the place. 

Cuz the feel is jarring, kind of like a 20 mile lobotomy.

With chunks of coquina the size of your head, Oleta can make even the bravest bike god a little cautious.  If you go down on this stuff it is going to hurt. 

And for those of us who are downright chicken, the first loop is slow going. 

There is a lot of stopping and peering over the edge to see what the heck I am getting into here.  

When I work up the courage, I back up and try again.  I hate to think of finishing last at the XTerra here in a couple weeks!  But it's a possibility!

Fortunately, the local bike race is nearly over by the time we complete our three hour drive south down I-95.  Even better luck, the race course is still marked.  Excellent!  It's likely they will use the same course for the Oleta XTerra on the 28th. 

Check out XTerraPlanet.com for the coolest triathlon ever invented.  It's the race that Nissan named the car after.

Tri-Lady, Popeye, and I all step out of the car and get ready to ride.  Once everyone is sans sweatshirt, we realize that all three of us are wearing the same jersey! 

Team XTerra has arrived!

There's a reason for that.  It's "cold" for Miami, probably not quite 70 degrees.  Except for the few chilly weeks around Christmas, normal for Florida means sleeveless.  There just aren't many choices in the short sleeve arsenol. The XTerra regional champion jerseys fit the rare clothing requirement perfectly on this bright cool Sunday.

The local riders are really nice in Miami.  Two volunteered to take a photo of us, and almost everyone asks if you need help when they see you stopped, eyeballing a hairy drop.

As I pulled to the side of the trail for one photo attempt, this guy in the white and red shirt blew by, asking "You ok?" 

"Oh yeah," I reply.  "I'm just trying to get a picture for my friends who think you don't need full suspension in Florida."

His staccato laugh was synchronized perfectly to the machine gun rhythm of his bike tires, as they stuttered over chunks of coquina the size of grapefruits.

From around the jagged bend he called back, "Of course! Cuz this is only Miami, right?"