Cheyenne leaves its mark on me

I’ve spent this week in Cheyenne. I know what you’re thinking; I get to go to all the exotic destinations. Puerto Rico one week, Wyoming the next, but all this traveling has kept me from two races, and may have done me in for tomorrow’s race at Sundance.



Wyoming doesn’t have any white sand beaches, and my employer sent me here for some training, so I won’t bore you with why I’m here, but I did learn something valuable that you ought to know:


When eating dinner in a landlocked state with more cows than people, stick with the steak and avoid the fish.



Last night I ate at the Albany Restaurant in downtown Cheyenne. I’m not much of a red meat eater so I ordered the salmon. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but something in it was tainted.



Putting it lightly, I woke up in the middle of the night with some pressing urges. I made my way to the bathroom and spent some time on the toilet not knowing which end it was going to come out of me. After the worst of it I stood up to make my way back to bed. The next thing I remember was coming to on the hotel room floor. I don’t know how long I had been out, but my neck and chin were killing me. I crawled into bed on
my hands and knees and waited for morning.



This morning when I looked in the mirror, I saw this raspberry on my chin. There’s a matching one on my shoulder, and another just below my eye. I must have landed directly on my face and jarred my neck because it hurts to move. I still can’t eat and my stomach feels like there’s a herd of squirrels running around in there. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the race tomorrow.



Next time I’ll order the cheeseburger.