State Crit Story Time
June 3rd, 2007 |OK kiddies, get all tucked in because it’s time for a story.
It was my first non-track race of the year! The whole village was excited for Smithers!
I rode over to the capitol with Scotterob and Pedykins and I was optimistic that things might go my way. I had recovered from the big effort at the track last Thursday night, I had been protein shake loading and I had done an active recovery ride with Baby Smithers in the trailer yesterday. Everything was in place for a great day. Happy thoughts and songs!
During the warm up I made a few accelerations up a climb next to the course and I was saddened to find that the legs were not feeling too keen. All the furry and fuzzy woodland creatures came out from hill and dale to wish Smithers a good race.
Sometimes when you start a race and don’t feel totally awesome you can shake some things loose if you make a real hard effort and then recover for a bit before making another effort. So, after a lap or so when we hit the 1 block climb before the finish I went to the front and dug in pretty hard. I did the exact same thing the very next lap and then moved back a few spots to recover before making another effort.
The fairy princess of the State Capitol building then came out to cheer for Smithers.
Lap after lap went by, I drifted farther and farther back in the group, feeling worse and worse, hoping that soon I would start feeling better. At one point I looked back because it seemed like the whole pack was riding in front of me. Turns out that they were, I was tail gunning big time. I tried to move up, make another effort to see if the legs would respond. They responded all right, by telling me that I should just sit up and give up.
The evil course troll took up residence at the hairpin turn and gave me the finger every time I came through.
There were about a dozen laps to go at this point and the name of the game for me was “sit in and hold on.” I did that very thing until 2 laps to go when I had finally had enough and called it a day. When guys are getting all antsy and setting up for the final sprint the last place you want to be is sitting at the back of the pack. Something can go wrong and you can find yourself riding your way right into a fustercluck.
All the furry and fuzzy woodland creatures told Smithers that he sucked at this sport.
The prettiest lady of the whole land and a little baby came out to watch so I rolled over and visited when them before riding back home with Scotterob and Pedykins.
The end.
Postscript: Some dude won the race.
