State Champs Points Race 9/9/6
Medals were on the line. A win was practically impossible, but you never know, so I was there to see what would happen and, moreover, not crash. Really, I was there to race for MC, but she cancelled last minute because of work responsibilities (I was sad). I almost didn’t race then, but I jumped in (and I was glad).
So Mikkel won the gold with more than twice as many points than me. Well, I guess some dude for somewhere else actually won the race, but that don’t matter. Maybe if he were eligible for the medal we would have bothered to battle him. Actually, I’m only about 66.6% serious: Daniel Harm, you got game, homie. But it was Mikkel on top of the podium after the race, 2nd place or not.
Actually, I’m kind of PO’d. I was racing like I was there alone, just looking out for Number One, but had I thought about it at all… (don’t you hate it when you just DON’T THINK? Maybe that never happens to you…) So, some dude from Washington came down and won our State Champs race. Makes us look bad. And besides, I wasn’t gonna win anyways. And Mikkel’s a really nice-guy class-act type. Some dudes crashed our party. As long as Mikkel was the clear Oregonian favorite, maybe we shoulda been looking at it like we were defending against an invasion. I shoulda been busting my ass doing anything I could to help him beat that insurgent… even rallying the others in my boat to the cause. We coulda sent that guy packing. Oh well.
So, for me, the guy looking out for himself, it was a respectable performance. Worked real hard and got some points and a lap. Some really strong riders finished behind me or didn’t finish. It was a long race. The best news (far better news than having found out that I just plain can’t hold Jimmy Lingwood’s wheel when he goes….props, brutha) was that I was getting relatively stronger as the race pounded and pounded on. I gots me an hour’s endurance at high intensity… can you say “cyclocross”? One track mind, I swear. What the hell are we racing track for? It’s cyclocross season. But, I digress. I got 6th place overall out of 20 riders, 4th best Oregonian. Dumortier beat me by 2 points, 55 to 53. A bronze was that close… but if his name means, as I suspect it does, “of the dead”, then he deserves it.
Okay, so what else happened today? I saw my teammate Matt race the 4’s points race. The story: He was doing fine but was looking bad on his last 10 laps, hanging 30 meters off the back, trying to keep that last nail from being hammered into his coffin (lose a lap and lose 20 points, fyi). He dug super deep and caught back up (his face was a portrait of death), and right as I started to yell at him waytogo type stuff, mofo rides through the group and goes solo for some first place points and then gets caught for I think a second place in the last sprint. Then he wandered into the infield and puked on it. Seriously folks, you wanna know what I dig? I dig somebody that can say f*k it and burn those last 30 calories, you know, those ones your body can’t afford to burn, because of having to keep living and sh!t? Serious A+ for effort.
So Mikkel won the gold with more than twice as many points than me. Well, I guess some dude for somewhere else actually won the race, but that don’t matter. Maybe if he were eligible for the medal we would have bothered to battle him. Actually, I’m only about 66.6% serious: Daniel Harm, you got game, homie. But it was Mikkel on top of the podium after the race, 2nd place or not.
Actually, I’m kind of PO’d. I was racing like I was there alone, just looking out for Number One, but had I thought about it at all… (don’t you hate it when you just DON’T THINK? Maybe that never happens to you…) So, some dude from Washington came down and won our State Champs race. Makes us look bad. And besides, I wasn’t gonna win anyways. And Mikkel’s a really nice-guy class-act type. Some dudes crashed our party. As long as Mikkel was the clear Oregonian favorite, maybe we shoulda been looking at it like we were defending against an invasion. I shoulda been busting my ass doing anything I could to help him beat that insurgent… even rallying the others in my boat to the cause. We coulda sent that guy packing. Oh well.
So, for me, the guy looking out for himself, it was a respectable performance. Worked real hard and got some points and a lap. Some really strong riders finished behind me or didn’t finish. It was a long race. The best news (far better news than having found out that I just plain can’t hold Jimmy Lingwood’s wheel when he goes….props, brutha) was that I was getting relatively stronger as the race pounded and pounded on. I gots me an hour’s endurance at high intensity… can you say “cyclocross”? One track mind, I swear. What the hell are we racing track for? It’s cyclocross season. But, I digress. I got 6th place overall out of 20 riders, 4th best Oregonian. Dumortier beat me by 2 points, 55 to 53. A bronze was that close… but if his name means, as I suspect it does, “of the dead”, then he deserves it.
Okay, so what else happened today? I saw my teammate Matt race the 4’s points race. The story: He was doing fine but was looking bad on his last 10 laps, hanging 30 meters off the back, trying to keep that last nail from being hammered into his coffin (lose a lap and lose 20 points, fyi). He dug super deep and caught back up (his face was a portrait of death), and right as I started to yell at him waytogo type stuff, mofo rides through the group and goes solo for some first place points and then gets caught for I think a second place in the last sprint. Then he wandered into the infield and puked on it. Seriously folks, you wanna know what I dig? I dig somebody that can say f*k it and burn those last 30 calories, you know, those ones your body can’t afford to burn, because of having to keep living and sh!t? Serious A+ for effort.
posted by MCB at 9:19 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks! I think it was all the coffee I drank pre-race, that and the ol sprint.
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