I actually already wrote up the Gloucester pre-race report. It's the Green Mountain Cyclocross Weekend Day Two Race Report. The entire purpose of my trip to Vermont was to shake the rust off my cyclocross skills and earn a call-up at Gloucester. It was a successful trip. I went from bumbling rusty dropout, to contender; and improved my Gloucester start from about row 13 to row 2. For real. 13 to 2. Can't stress how important that is.
FridayFast forward through my week of top secret training, you'll have to pay $5 if you want to read that. It's Friday afternoon. A few friends of mine started a new company, and opened an office in a loft on the edge of Chinatown. They are hosting a happy hour to show off the new digs. I put together the perfect plan have a few cold ones early in the evening, go home, fuel up and hit the hay. Get some Friday evening socalizing in, but not so much that I end up de-tuning the race engine. Perfect.
I should adopt Schwarzenegger's policy of never standing next to tall people.
Problem is it's now 10pm, we've drank the place dry, and I still haven't had dinner. While everyone else throws their jackets on and heads to the bar around the corner, I do the
right not-quite-as-wrong-as-everything-else-i-had-done-up-to-that-point thing and head home.
9am Saturday morning.
My mudder was a mudder.
By now it's no secret that I love racing in shitty weather. Even my competitors that don't read my blog (no really, there are a few) have figured out that I am a mountain biker, and therefore my advantage increases as traction decreases. Seemed like the weather was giving back what ever advantage my morning headache took away. Level playing field, lets do this.
Not so fast.
The great thing about my level of retardation is that I am fully aware of it, and therefore can do my best to compensate. I'm halfway to Gloucester, in the car, checking for about the fifth time to make sure I didn't forget anything. shoes? nope. U-turns are performed, speed limits and other traffic control devices are ignored.
The extra penalty for my stupidity? When I got back on the highway to re-drive the part I just drove, I had to wait in traffic because there was an accident in the 15 minutes since I had last driven through. A full hour after I planned to arrive, I roll into the mud puddle that is the Stage Fort Park parking lot.
Even tough guys shiver.
For some reason we are staged way early. Everyone is standing around squinting as the rain comes down at a 45 degree angle to match the whipping winds. Dudes are shivering, shoulders are hunched, arms are frantically rubbed. Time does not pass. I play it cool, I got in a good warm up and still have some sweat under my jacket. I stand up straight, and keep my eyes wide open like a tough guy and let the rain pound against my face as I stare down the shivering chumps that surround me. Five minutes later I am jacketless and huddled in a standing fetal position cursing the name of whoever had us wait in staging for 15 minutes. You shittin' me? I gotta race now?
Awesome photos unawesomely stolen from http://www.krisdobie.com/