This is awesome mix of the infomercial slap chop!
For those on facebook: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWRyj5cHIQA&feature=player_embedded

my first ms 150 experience

My first MS 150 Experience

After a months of waiting and anticipation, the time had come to saddle up on my bike, put on my bike shorts, throw some chamois butter on my butt, and ride from Houston to Austin, TX in two days also known as the MS 150. A ride dedicated to raising funds for the MS Society, to keep moving for those who can’t.

I left work a few hours early the day before the big ride, to start packing since I had to wake up at 5:30 am and head out to the starting point. Some may say that it was good news but the rain had flooded parts of the road to Austin and flooded the camp ground where we would have stayed over night in La Grange. The MS 150 organizers had to close down the first day. I was looking forward to my first MS 150 experience but it all came to an end. News came shortly after that the MS 150 would still continue the 2nd day start from La Grange to Austin. Not knowing what would exactly happen on Sunday, how to get to La Grange to even ride the 2nd day, I decided to go to Austin with my brother, and friends.

Saturday night, the day before the big ride from La Grange to Austin, everyone decided we should go out to the bars. So we all went out, I had a few beers, stayed out till midnight. Now I have five hours to sleep before the ride. My brother and I leave the bar, shower, and start packing all our things for the ride. By the time I actually went to sleep, it was already 1 am.

So we had 4 and half hours of sleep! I planned on waking up at 5, but the alarm kept going till 5:30. Knowing what I had to do, I jumped up screaming at my brother to wake up, washed my face, put on my contacts, and put on all my biking gear. As I had everything to go, biking gear was all put on, I had this sudden urge to take a crap. If you guys don’t know, I wear a bib bike shorts. This means it looks like a wrestlers tights where the straps go over the shoulders. Pass judgment now, but I swear to you, these are better than just the shorts. So now I have to take off all my clothes JUST to take a crap.

Fast-forwarding, we finally get to La Grange. The starting point of the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. As we’re getting ready to get out of the starting line, we are a speck amongst a sea of helmets, nylon clothing, and bikes. It’s an amazing thing to see. I can only imagine how many people were there, but the final numbers were over 11,000 people. After a 45 minute wait we finally hit the road peddling our way to our doom, I mean our goal.

Our first 10 miles was already tough. We had to drive through parts of 71 where the road was like cobble stones. The road was so rough it was slowing us down. Not only that but the vibration was killing my hands. After about 10 miles of constant crappy-ass roads, we finally hit some nice flat roads. The transition of the roads where so significant that it felt like I was riding on butter.

The first 10-15 miles were not so bad. It was flat land, but the wind was a big factor of slowing us down every chance it got. With constant head wind, I had no choice but to draft behind my brother. Drafting is when you ride behind someone so that they block all the wind for you. Essentially, you wouldn’t have to pedal so hard since you would have less wind pushing you back. Thanks bro! As the miles went by under our pedals, the hills had come knocking to punch me in the face. Hills after hills, they came with blows, upper cuts, jabs, everything they had. They were throwing them right down my face. I was getting the shit kicked out. I tried everything to ease the pain of going up the hills. I tried praying, I tried thinking about all the people with MS and how I need to buck up and do it, I thought about Christine, and I even tried meditation while biking it up the hill. None of it worked. As soon as I started up the hill, the pain in my legs would creep in, and linger like that friend that just won’t go home when they come over to your house; Like get the hell out man. Jesus!

At the 34 mile mark, I had hit my wall. I was destroyed by the head wind and the hills. All I could think about was quitting. I was well hydrating myself, but the headaches started to settle in. I was through. I pulled over to the side of the road, took off my helmet, and waived my helmet (that is the signal to have a van pick you up. Also known as SAGing.). I felt a bit of shame. I imagined in my mind that every biker passing by yelling with their stares, “You quitter. You suck man!”. So I SAGed 6 miles to the next rest stop, which was the lunch stop. It took me over an hour to get to the next stop. All the SAG wagons were filled up with people that couldn’t go any further just like myself. So many people were SAGing that they had to bring a school buss with cargo moving vans to SAG people back to rest stops. That’s how bad these winds were. Even people who biked the MS 150 3 years in a row had to SAG this year for the first time.

Lunch time. So I finally get to Bastrop Texas, where lunch is being served. My brother had been waiting for almost an hour for me. He’s pisst. So knowing he wanted to head out early and they had ran out of lunch, I scarfed down a banana, ate some power gel, and washed it down with Gatorade. I was good to go. Now we had 40 miles left. This was the toughest 40 miles so far, and I knew the hardest had yet to come. As we left the lunch break point, my brother as usual had left me behind, since I was slower. I was riding near a top of a hill and I didn’t see the gravel pit, and ended up losing control of the bike and falling on my left leg, hitting my knee, and elbows right on the concrete. I even managed to some how scrape the back of my right leg on the bike. Automatically I felt like an idiot, and embarrassed I got up quick as I can and said I was ok. I like to call them battle scars. Makes it sound manlier. Now I’m thinking, should I SAG some more. SAGing had become a drug. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted another hit of the sweet tasting SAG. But I didn’t. I resisted and I went on. Because I am a man, maybe a little less but still a man.

I pushed on, every pedal, every square foot of pavement, I pushed on. After what felt like an eternity I had finally arrived to the second to the last break point before Austin. Only 17 miles left. When we were training for the MS 150 we’ve done 40 miles in about 2 hours, so 17 miles sounded like nothing to us. My brother once again had arrived at the break point before me. So we decided to text our friends who were going to wait for us at the finish line that we’d be there in about 45 minutes. We decided to skip the last rest stop to make up time. As we drew near to the last rest stop, we couldn’t resist so we pulled in for a quick break. The quick break ended up being almost 45 minutes. We were just about to leave the break point, when my brother discovered a flat on his bike. We were so exhausted that it was difficult to even change a flat. It would usually take me 10 minutes to change a flat but it was proving difficult with all the fatigue. I could tell that even my brother who was fit and more athletic than I was, was physically breaking down. To illustrate how fit my brother is, here is a little background about him. He plays rugby for University of Houston, he plays basketball, plays football, and goes to the gym to lift weights and runs several times a week. My brother is ATHLETIC. The hills and wind were slowly taking a toll. Imagine how I was feeling when my brother was starting to feel the pain. The closer we got to Austin, the hills were rolling in more frequently. We had 8 miles left.

7 miles. 6 miles. 5 miles. 4 miles. 3 miles. 2 miles in, I had drunk all my water and I had no water left. My Camelbak alone carries 3 liters of water. So far I’ve filled it up at almost every break point except the last one, which now I was regretting. I think in total I drank more than 18 liters of liquids. I was getting to the point where I was so desperate for water, I was asking everyone that passed by if they had any water to spare. I ended up asking an old lady that was repairing her bike, for some water. All I could think about was water. My body started to shut down, and it was getting hard and harder to get back on the bike and keep pedaling. Every time I stopped for a break and tried to start pedaling again, my feet would keep slipping off the pedal and the struggle became greater. At one point I stopped, pulled over, and just laid down gravel on the side of the road. I thought maybe the ambulance would have to come and get my ass. All I could think about was the shame of not finishing and quitting the ride with only 2 miles left. My brother was standing over me yelling to get up and keep going while snickering at the fact that I decided to lay down in the middle of the ride and start crying for water. Somehow I stood up, saddled in, and started to pedal. Even the last 2 miles there were at least a dozen hills. What goes up must come down, so when we were coming down the hills, I felt alive for a brief moment as if my energy had come rushing back. I thought wow, maybe I can actually finish this. But soon after, we’d hit another hill.

What felt like the longest 2 miles, I could hear a crowd cheering around the corner. My brother was ahead of me, and he’s yelling, we’re here! As I turned the corner, all I saw was a drop right down the hill right into the finish line. As I zoomed down the hill, I felt the rush of pure joy. I was happy the ride was over and that I didn’t have to pedal any more. I could see the finish line coming closer and closer. I looked back to see where my brother was, and I yelled, “Come on Peter! We started this together. We need to finish together.” As we crossed the finish line, we heard people yelling and cheering. Our friends from Houston were screaming even louder. I felt like I was an actual professional biker finishing a huge race. Maybe like Armstrong but not as great. I teared up for quick second knowing that I was happy it was all over. As we crossed the finish line, I couldn’t stop thinking about drinking some water and taking a pee break. It was all over. The greatest challenge of my life and I finished it. Not alone, but with the support of my friends, my brother, and God. I give all glory to God cause I know I couldn’t of done it without Him. Lets not forget the people all over the world who are suffering from MS. I pedaled for you. For the cure of MS.

chicken a la carte

After viewing this short film, it reminds me why I pursue One World United. My passion is to fight poverty.

Those on facebook click here.

am i famous?

So the other week, Houston Chronicle decided they liked my story of why I was doing the MS150 and decided to send a photographer out to take my photo. So to my surprise, it made it online… http://www.chron.com/neighborhoods/alief/ . But they used a photo of C where she’s either looking at my gloves or closing her eyes!!!

I wonder where the story is.

i'm not chinese!

Today, I decided to skip Starbucks because I was annoyed that they messed up my order yesterday. So I decided to go to a gas station right next to the Starbucks store and grab myself a cheaper cup of coffee.

As soon as I walked in, I was greeted by the store clerk. “Good morning”.

I reply, “Hi how you doin?”

“I’m ok… are you Chinese?”

I’m thinking in my head, no bitch, I’m not chinese. But I knew I shouldn’t be rude. “I’m not Chinese, I’m Korean. I know we all look the same right?”

“Oh my neighbor is Korean. They are very nice.”

“That’s cool.”

“You look Chinese.”

“Oh is it cause I have small eyes? Well I must go now. Take care.”