Second, I am rusty at racing and in that regard, the situation on Sunday was perfect. You'll hear people throw around the term "training race" and wonder if they are just saying that to excuse a result. I was one better (or worse). I knew going in I was only racing for two and a half of the four allotted hours. So, show up, check the fitness during the marathon event, shake the racing cobwebs off and see where things stand. (Then head for Con's soccer game). Perfect.
After a nice conversation with Anne Savery and the usual hellos, we started and I, in classic fashion, couldn't decide how hard to go out so I found a friendly ass and tucked in behind Gammel. I did bother rolling a warm up lap and hadn't ridden Swanson in two years so I just followed along. The gear seemed a solid choice and I keep Sam's last text to me in mind. "Hydrate well. Stay Smooth."
There was really only one point that I felt like I was racing. Anybody who has raced the one gear will know this moment... You hit a climb behind a group, hear everyone downshift and think, "Fuck, I should have passed." Ah yes... racing.
Otherwise, good times...
I was behind CVO for a bit until he needed to go poop.
I saw Marc making his way up to me near the end of my two plus hours. "Come on, Mother Fucker, get up here!!" A little banter and away he went.
Shortly after, the Cat One race came climbing along and in short-sighted effort to top out on the climb before then, managed to put myself in the dirt. If you raced, remember the point where, shortly after crossing the road, you turn left to climb the open-air switch backs? If so, you remember the brightly colored post on the inside of that turn? The one with all the ribbon on it? I somehow managed to clip that trying to stay ahead of guys I can't stay ahead of.
So much for "staying smooth."
Next up... Tranquility. And according to schedules, I'm in for all four hours.