Maybe it’s Minnesota. Maybe being a wisconsinite has created an intrinsic hatred of the state. Maybe it’s that the stages are hard, but not contrasted against the beautiful backdrop of some surreal race. “Yeah, it’s a hard stage but we’re in Europe. Thats so cool!” Maybe it’s that the whole time I’m struggling up some climb, gasping for air as the wheel in front of my inches away I’m thinking, oh Minnesota. I hate you. I can’t even spell you.
Maybe it’s because I truely love Wisoconsin and Minnesota, you’re the only state that’s just too close for comfort. When I say I hate football but love the packers, you understand and mock me for it. like us, you’e largely ignored by the rest of the country until january when they hear reports of multiple feet of snow and think, god, I’m glad I don’t live there.
Maybe, Minnesota, it’s not you. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m undertrained. Maybe I’m overfed. Maybe I’m... slow.
Regardless, we’re gonna be meeting again soon. And no matter what happens in the five days, remember: We may be responsible for cheese curds, but you gave the world insane clown posse. And that, is unforgivable.
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