Editor’s Note: The Torqued Wrench is a look inside the mind of VeloNews.com tech writer Caley Fretz. Every other week he tackles the rumors, trends, innovations, and underpinnings of the tech world — or something else entirely. You can submit questions to TorquedWrench@competitorgroup.com. Be sure to check out Caley’s previous columns.
Lying in the little window seat of our mountaintop condo, feet up on the wall in the vain hope that gravity will pull the pain of a three-hour cross-country race out of my legs, I hear a knock. Half asleep, I ignore it. Probably got the wrong door, I figure. All these condos look the same.
But the knocker is persistent. The rhythm is desperate. My brother calls from the shower, where he is scrubbing off a few hours worth of North Carolina mud: “Get off your ass and get the door!”
Peeking through the peephole I see a man in red, white and blue, jumping a bit. He seems fidgety. He’s kitted out in a skinsuit with shinpads. His bike, a Giant, leans against the outside railing. I can’t make out a face, but open the door.
“I got to go, dude,” Giant man says.
“Go where?” I ask, still dimwitted from bonking at the end of my own race an hour earlier.
“No. I got to go. Can I use your bathroom? I race in 10 minutes. Super-D starts right over there,” pointing across the ski slope.
My brother is in there taking a shower, I explain. He is undeterred. “Nine minutes man; don’t have time.”
Sticking my head around the bathroom door, I explain the situation: “You’re going to have some company. Just stay in the shower, OK?”
“Company?” My brother sounds incredulous. Giant man is now hovering behind me.
“Adam Craig needs to do some business. It’s time sensitive,” I say. “Stay in the shower.”
A few awkward minutes later, Craig is back out our door. He yells “thanks,” hops on his bike and pedals straight to the start house, lining up with moments to spare. Uncharacteristically, he bobbles and finishes third. Perhaps his warm-up
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