I'm not feeling very creative today but I'm feeling ready to roll again, so let's take it from here. So anyone feel free to come up with a name. Your keywords to possibly use are:
* summer (obvious)
* hair on legs (coming soon, thankfully)
* Mooch Madness (planning)
* just riding for the fun of it (my current sort of plan)
* cross season (what this riding is going to set up)
* NYC (where I go every day)
* WFH (what I no longer do)
* old (what I'm getting)
* fat (what I may or may not be)
Anyway, as an old, fat, and balding cat 1 racer, here's what starts to happen. I start remembering the past...
It was 2009, late August. Myself, Freddie, Bill C, and former teammate Bill M taking on Weber, Matt M, Melissa, and the 4th guy who I don't remember but who used to race in the pro field, apparently. Yes there were other teams, but this was an MTBNJ-Bulldog showdown for the 2009 Elite 4 man team crown.
I went first, and the pro kid was alongside me. If I cared to I could try and find that picture, but it's been a long time and the effort would be prohibitive. Anyway, we went out hard, the 2 of us up front, but soon he pulled away and 2-3 guys got in between us, plus Adam who also used to race on the team. I got to the top of the climb in 6th I think.
I was on Big Red, the Magic Bike off the road, running a 33-19. Yes, SS for this bitch.
Soon I passed Adam and by the halfway point I took out the other 3 guys. So the Bulldog guy was out ahead. I figured he was gone but suddenly, maybe 2/3 of the way around the lap, I see him. Slowly I catch him, and before long he burps some air out and I'm out in front, leading the way. This felt good.
We hammered our way through the rest of the lap, me leading him out for much of it but him catching me eventually. I tried to hang on but he was just a bit too much for me. I held on almost to the camp itself, but then he dropped me with the gears as we wound our way through the camp road. I remember flying through the camp and having people yell for me. Then I remember coming over a rise right before the descent to the s/f and seeing Kirt there. He looked shocked that I had been able to stay so close to the Bulldog kid for the lap.
Billy Mac went next and tracked down Weber. We never gave up the lead from there.
As I sit here, getting older, fatter, balder, and my leg hair grows back in, I fondly remember that lap - not necessarily that day, even though we did win. Later in the day I would end up vomiting terribly. My second lap I was still on fire. My 2 laps were the 2 fastest on the team. I had the 2nd and 4th fastest laps overall in the whole race. But my 3rd/4th laps were a night double, and it was nothing short of brutal. When I got in they had called the race. I tried to eat and drink, but it was of little use. I took a shower and ended up throwing up everything I had eaten or drank in the previous 6 hours. I felt awful.
That was 2 things for me. First, it was a verification that I was a legit fast racer. Second, it was a spectacular explosion which basically ended my season. The week before I had done my first expert race, the DH40, and come in 9th. There were age classes back then. So it's not as impressive as it sounds. But it was a solid result for someone who started the year as cat 2. That DH40 race was one of the hottest races I've ever done, and again, I almost threw up after that one. Something like 1/3 of the field DNF'ed that one. It was brutal.
So why do I bring this up? I put the 19 back on Big Red today. And I'll be taking it back to the scene of the crime soon. I'm hoping we still have a few of those good days to dish out still before I'm way too old, incomprehensibly fat, and entirely bald.
Oh so anyway I rode my bike this morning for 2 hours. It was tough but I did manage to knock out 2 hours at just over 20 mph. I had to fight for it, but I made it. I've definitely dropped off some but I think there's still some material there to work with. Tomorrow back on the road, early.
May go try and watch Freddie down in Manville tonight.
* summer (obvious)
* hair on legs (coming soon, thankfully)
* Mooch Madness (planning)
* just riding for the fun of it (my current sort of plan)
* cross season (what this riding is going to set up)
* NYC (where I go every day)
* WFH (what I no longer do)
* old (what I'm getting)
* fat (what I may or may not be)
Anyway, as an old, fat, and balding cat 1 racer, here's what starts to happen. I start remembering the past...
It was 2009, late August. Myself, Freddie, Bill C, and former teammate Bill M taking on Weber, Matt M, Melissa, and the 4th guy who I don't remember but who used to race in the pro field, apparently. Yes there were other teams, but this was an MTBNJ-Bulldog showdown for the 2009 Elite 4 man team crown.
I went first, and the pro kid was alongside me. If I cared to I could try and find that picture, but it's been a long time and the effort would be prohibitive. Anyway, we went out hard, the 2 of us up front, but soon he pulled away and 2-3 guys got in between us, plus Adam who also used to race on the team. I got to the top of the climb in 6th I think.
I was on Big Red, the Magic Bike off the road, running a 33-19. Yes, SS for this bitch.
Soon I passed Adam and by the halfway point I took out the other 3 guys. So the Bulldog guy was out ahead. I figured he was gone but suddenly, maybe 2/3 of the way around the lap, I see him. Slowly I catch him, and before long he burps some air out and I'm out in front, leading the way. This felt good.
We hammered our way through the rest of the lap, me leading him out for much of it but him catching me eventually. I tried to hang on but he was just a bit too much for me. I held on almost to the camp itself, but then he dropped me with the gears as we wound our way through the camp road. I remember flying through the camp and having people yell for me. Then I remember coming over a rise right before the descent to the s/f and seeing Kirt there. He looked shocked that I had been able to stay so close to the Bulldog kid for the lap.
Billy Mac went next and tracked down Weber. We never gave up the lead from there.
As I sit here, getting older, fatter, balder, and my leg hair grows back in, I fondly remember that lap - not necessarily that day, even though we did win. Later in the day I would end up vomiting terribly. My second lap I was still on fire. My 2 laps were the 2 fastest on the team. I had the 2nd and 4th fastest laps overall in the whole race. But my 3rd/4th laps were a night double, and it was nothing short of brutal. When I got in they had called the race. I tried to eat and drink, but it was of little use. I took a shower and ended up throwing up everything I had eaten or drank in the previous 6 hours. I felt awful.
That was 2 things for me. First, it was a verification that I was a legit fast racer. Second, it was a spectacular explosion which basically ended my season. The week before I had done my first expert race, the DH40, and come in 9th. There were age classes back then. So it's not as impressive as it sounds. But it was a solid result for someone who started the year as cat 2. That DH40 race was one of the hottest races I've ever done, and again, I almost threw up after that one. Something like 1/3 of the field DNF'ed that one. It was brutal.
So why do I bring this up? I put the 19 back on Big Red today. And I'll be taking it back to the scene of the crime soon. I'm hoping we still have a few of those good days to dish out still before I'm way too old, incomprehensibly fat, and entirely bald.
Oh so anyway I rode my bike this morning for 2 hours. It was tough but I did manage to knock out 2 hours at just over 20 mph. I had to fight for it, but I made it. I've definitely dropped off some but I think there's still some material there to work with. Tomorrow back on the road, early.
May go try and watch Freddie down in Manville tonight.
