Dear Diver,

Please help! I registered for the Iron Horse in January, the days have flown by, and I’m far from ready for the big day. Let’s just say I’ve done more tapering than training this year. Please give me an ultimate, last-minute tip for getting to Silverton (and maybe even beating the train). Bear in mind that I’ll only have 48 hours from the time your answer hits the streets until I hit the pavement.

– Saddle Sore in Durango

Dear Sore Awkward Area,

There’s this miracle chemical that has been sweeping the nation for the past decade, all the pros are using it. They love it so much they are testifying before courts and all their fans as to the benefits. Apparently, all it takes is a few shots in your ass and you can perform at superhuman levels! I’ve heard it called “juicing” before, which is even more appealing because juice is good for you. Who doesn’t like juice? Those fat cats from the dairy industry, that’s who. But wait! There’s more! If you’re a lady, it’ll help you grow a sweet beard which is only a bonus in a mountain town. If you’re a dude, it’ll get rid of those pesky testes that are probably just getting in the way of your biking. You’ll be more aerodynamic. Remember, winning is the only thing that’s important, it doesn’t matter how you get there.

– Don’t forget to put some Preparation H on that, George

Dear Diver,

I just saw that NASCAR racer Jimmie Johnson tops Forbes list of most influential athletes. Is driving really an athletic endeavor? What exactly makes Mr. Johnson so darned influential?

– Malcolm F., via e-mail

Mack,

NASCAR was born out of the Prohibition period, where bootleggers would soup up their cars and run from the feds. I’ve been writing the head honchos of the NASCAR federation for years pleading with them to go back to their roots, namely, taking out any safety feature in the cars and building them completely out of steel, filling them with highly flammable alcohol, and changing that pace car into a “chase” car which will steadily fire off rounds into the racers. Whoever loses has to do 15-20 years in the pen. Now if THAT doesn’t make you sweat harder than a pole vaulter, I don’t know what will. As far as Mr. Johnson goes, let me Google that for you. Oh, look, he funds a crap ton of charities rather than pimping his ride and buying a bunch of useless, expensive things to fill a big, empty mansion. Don’t you feel like a jerk now? A judgmental jerk? I oughta call your mother, shame on you.

– Shaking my head disapprovingly, George

Dear Diver,

I have a roommate who is super cool in all ways but one – she lacks diving skills and cannot wash a dish to save her life. Oh sure she tries, but I find crusty reminders of two or three meals on each of our communal pots, pans and plates. How do I deal?

– Signed, Washed Up in Durango

Wishy-Washy,

Talk it out, maybe you’re not as awesome as you seem, either. Perhaps you make the whole house smell of patchouli, or floss too close to the mirror. Point is, nobody is perfect. Unless you ARE perfect. In which case, you are smothering me. I can’t live up to your expectations, they’re just too high. It’s like nothing pleases you anymore. Remember the old days, back when we met? We were so young, had such hopes and dreams. Dancing used to be good enough. You’ve changed, man. I think we should break up.

– George