Not gonna lie, that went better and worse than I thought it would.
I didn’t think I was gonna be in fifth place after I saw who was lined up with us. It was really fast. Almost as fast as Burlingame.
I did think I was going to remain vertical, but that didn’t happen, a few times. I could blame the bike, but the bike can’t defend itself, so I will. It was totally the bikes fault. I was also pushing the envelope, with regards to how hard I could drive the bike. I came around a slightly downhill corner and something at the exit pushed me to the side of the trail where my bar became best buds with small tree… …and then their friendship ended, and I was caught in the middle, and being hurled to the turf. My left middle finger hurt but I could move it so I jumped on the bike and got back at it. I got sorted out after a mile or so and I didn’t think anything of it after that. All told it was a fun race. Everyone on the trails were polite, even the few hikers and dog walkers who likely thought we were all crazy
I got there really early so I could relax and not have to rush to get ready. I got my number, said hi to a few of the other NEMBA racers I saw, went to the NEMBA tent and ate. Everything felt like it was starting to wake up, so I decided to get into my kit and spin around a little. I got changed and pulled the bike out of the van, put the wheel on, all the while unable to put my finger on why it felt off. I got into my bike shoes, grabbed the bike and in an instant I knew what was wrong. I had a set of pedals, they just weren’t on my bike. I still had three hours till race time so I set out to talk to the folks I knew and get some pedals on the bike. After many no’s I was next to registration and Jerry Gould (who I didn’t know until that moment) say’s, “I live about a mile away and have a set in my garage”. Thanks again Jerry!
I get home sore and somewhat battered, took a shower, ate and hit the crib. When I got up in the morning my finger had gained a significant amount of girth, turned a few colors and didn’t like moving. I’ve been injured enough times to know that sometimes it’s best to have someone who knows what they’re doing look at you. Couple a hours later my photo shoot was done and I was cleared to be an idiot again, after the swelling, pain, stiffness were all gone. The past few days I’ve been doing the “hey, it feels okay, I can race”. Which is quickly followed by a “you’re being stupid, again”. As much as I want to, I can’t see myself racing Gnar Weasels. I may show up to cheer and hand out bottles, or day of reg.