Where to start. This is like my house. So many parts need attention I have a hard time beginning. Also everything is interwoven to the point that, to do one thing greatly affects the doing of another. A thousand excuses.
You may not know this but in the November issue of Bicycling Magazine, I wrote an article. It's called the Dirty Century, and is all about 100mile mountainbike races. Well, a little about them. It was a struggle for me to write the thing, since it seemed like a big deal and I was nervous.
I'm excited to have the article and I should thank the staff at Bicycling for helping that come together. I just want to clarify a couple of things. These are the results of editing.
1. There is an inaccuracy about how the 101 race goes. It mentions something about the pace picking up when it got to the single track. It usually starts on the climb after aid 1.
2. On the side is a list of 6 races they recommend. There are two in there I would never recommend until the promoters turned themselves around. Six random choices made by someone without experience. There are a ton of better races out there. Creampuff 100 being one of them.
Beware the Editors slash!
On the other hand, I raced the Terror of Teaberry last weekend, as my final serious race of the year. I wanted to do good, but it was sort of like asking an 80 year old man dance a jig with a pretty girl for 20min. His heart's in it but, those legs don't pop-lock and rocket like they used to. Thats how I know my season is over. I'm tired. Actually I could feel it going into Shenandoah. Just missing a spark. But I'm not complaining the season has been great. I reached some new levels of competition, and it was a beautiful last race. The Fall is starting to set in and all day long I felt like it was the twilight of 2007.
We started off racing into the morning sun, so bright that riding into the shadows was like having the lights flicked on and off. My eyes couldn't adjust fast enough, so following Chris's wheel in the tight shrub corridors, was an act of faith. Chris and Jeff left me about 8miles in, on a loose babyhead climb, and from that point I was on cruise control. No punching it, just rolling. Fine by me, I knew what was inside. Jeff DNF'ed at the 25mile mark, and had a hell walk out for 4 hours. That put me back in second, with Brandon staying close. He caught me at one point and I was excited to have a riding partner, but I dropped him without really meaning to, and my one speed was as excited about slowing down as speeding up. Steady Freddy.
So I was disappointed to not be able to give Chris a battle, and he took it easily by 20 min. Ouch. Still the man.
I went to Island Beach State Park in Jersey on Thursday with some friends. J is a recent Orange County CA transplant and this was her first visit to the Atlantic ocean. I sort of know how she felt, since I grew up on the Atlantic and remember my Pacific introduction. It's sort of like a long lost relative. Familiar, welcoming and mysterious.
Also along on the trip were another J and LM. All three worked together at the coffee shop next to the bike shop. Don't eat at Bum Rodgers.