After powering through about 17 miles of tough single track in summer heat and conquering the tallest climb brown county has to offer, I realized that I was completely out of food.

I had bonked, desperate for anything to shove down my throat to make it the 10 miles back to the car when much to my surprise, I noticed a beautifully colored packet someone had dropped in the upper dirt parking.

I stood there contemplating, while that sleek JET BlackBerry GU lable enticed me, stirring at my ravenous hunger.

A DECISION had to be made, surely I would die without it, and it having escaped the fate of being crushed by all the tires, both car and bipedal that sought to spread its contents onto the earth, it must have been some fateful luck that it had survived, so that I may survive as well......

Without any further hesitation at the top of hesitation point, I opened the mysterious parking lot goo and shot its contents into my desperately needing mouth. I have yet to taste anything as simultaneously disgusting and nourishing to this day, but it was exactly what I needed, or so I thought. I knew what I had done was a mistake from the very moment I swallowed it, it had been cooked in the sun possibly for weeks, but the reality of the consequences did not set in until about halfway back to the car.

There is an old adage about whether or not a bear sh!ts in the woods, and suppose now the same can be said of mountain bikers who eat mysterious food found cooking in the sun for indescript lengths of time in a parking lot literally named hesitation point. The irony was strong that day.