Today was a big day. It marked my first mountain bike race racing expert vet. I also came out as a member of Tripower today to K-Dawg, Hosang, Tim and Bill G. They welcomed me to the club. Sorry Marco, but you weren’t there.
I raced up from my usual sport vet class because I’d won two out of three races last fall as a sport vet. Just wouldn’t have felt right if I’d kept racing that class. Predictably I got my head handed to me. I started toward the back of the field and stayed there. I glued myself to Bill’s wheel and popped like a supernova at about the halfway point of the first lap. But I kept rolling and felt pretty good on the bike despite the nausea that’s lingered all week and the virtual absence of training this winter. A few people blasted by me from later classes, but not many.
Going into the third lap, there was a chase group behind me of another expert vet and the expert woman who went on to finish third (they started in front of us). I had maybe a 15-second gap, but suddenly there was this clattering in my rear wheel. I’d broken a spoke. When I stopped it was all jammed up in my rear derailleur. Ergghh! The chase group blew by me. I tried to snap off the spoke, but couldn’t, so I wrapped it around an adjacent spoke and remounted to give chase. But the derailleur was all messed up and the chain kept popping and misshifting, so I couldn’t really apply any power. I cruised in the final lap. Don’t know the results yet, but some expert vets did finish behind me, including the Dawg. (Of course, the man had to answer the desperate call of nature in the middle of the race, but I’ll take what I can get.)
Drove home. Took the family out to dinner at the Taphouse (who knew the Taphouse had a MySpace page?) and enjoyed a big sloppy burger and a pair of St. George Porters. Can’t remember the last time I had a burger. It was luscious. And St. George, which is a Hampton brewery, easily makes my favorite porter. I’ve always had it on draft and it’s rich and chocolatey.