Hello. Is there anybody out there?

Based on the requests of the more asphalt oriented riders on the Bicycle Place listserve, I'm going to re-invent this blog. Sometimes I'll write more, sometimes less. Sometimes it'll be deep (rarely), sometimes it'll barely break the surface (usually). In any case, it's my blog, it's the truth (as I see it) and it's a piece of me. So if you want a piece of me...

Allow me to tell you a little story of two fat and out-of-shape old guys and one skinny, smokin' young guy. That's right, Johan and I joined one svelte Jackson for the first ever (for us) Tacchino Ciclocross challenge. As is my usual case, I mostly finished putting together my rig (remember, Jackson has the built one) the night before. I say "mostly" as I still had a few tweaks to fiddle with the next am at the race site - mostly bar tape and bike fitting kind of stuff.

I thought I had it all sorted, including cranking my pedals past "finger tight" when I decided that my back brake wasn't working properly. I rushed back to my car and grabbed a handful of tools and began some more fiddling. And don't you know, I stripped the blinking binding bolt! So there I am, minutes from the start and no rear brake. To compound matters, I hadn't yet had time to warm up for this killer "power course" (all up and down hills). I'm not quite panicked yet, but definitely feeling the strain as I take my place near the back of the field, hoping like hell that a front wheel washout brought on my too much brake grabbing won't take down 15 riders with me. As a gentlemen, I do make notice to all around me of my plight that they may avoid me at all costs. Mostly I get smirks and incredulous looks.

Bang, off goes the gun, zoom goes my heartrate, zip go the bikes. I don't lose much ground, but there's not much to lose, frankly. Some Fred biffs in the first corner of the PROLOG! I calmly go around him, but think, "Hmm, how long before I do that?" My saving grace on dismounts is that they all seem to be on up hills so I let gravity do its thing and slow naturally before the one and only barriers. (Side note - my only criticism of this course is that it was way too much a MTB course w/out the usual barriers for mount/dismount that I prefer.) Anyway, up and over I go the first time. My fwd progress is delayed by some chap who decides to lay his bike across my front wheel. As I try and get it sorted, approximately 4 ppl decide to make new tattoos on my calves with their knobby front wheels. Wankers, that hurts!

I spend the rest of my time in perpetual suffering as my fitness is way low, the course is way hard, and I'm forever trying to adjust my speed down hills with a front brake. Oh, here's something funny. Some guy keeps passing me for the first lap only to overcook it in each subsequent corner and fall down. That was my only enjoyment of the day. Zip, biff, zip, biff.

Fast forward to the fourth lap (passed Johan on the 2nd, got passed by Jackson on the third) and I am truly praying for the lead guys to pass me 'cuz if I get passed I get to stop the pain. By now snot is coming out my nose in full force and my chest is aching as if I have a full on chest cold. And finally, lap 4 and a half, two guys smoothly toast me in the tree-trunk corner. I bleat out, "Are you the lead?" They calmly answer "yes" and my pain is gone. I stroll it home with another guy just as eager to leave the course. I don't even feel down, I just feel like I got my a** handed to me and I ate with knife and fork.

Johan and I stayed around with Howard, Sanni (sp?) and Pam (it was Pam, right?) to watch Jackson finish up and Jeff take off. (Sorry we couldn't stay Jeff!) I'm just glad no "Killer K's" attended this rally. And what did I get for my efforts? A 180 HR avg, sore lungs and a whole lotta love from the tifosi on the main uphill. Man, if it weren't for them, I dunno what I woulda done - cried? Probably. MORE COWBELLS!

That's it. Next race will be in three weeks, I think. Gives me a bit of time to heal and get some semblance of shape back into my legs.