This would be another edition of Lizard: Where the Eff Are We? if this were such a thing. Or, perhaps, its own lifetime movie. It would be called, Reptilian Dreams. Or, you know, something like that. Anyway, I'm going to cram two days into this entry, because I fell asleep last night before I could write.
It is hard when I am actually riding and not being a servant, because my brain is so tired. Over and over again I play the race, trying to pinpoint the moment I did not do what I should have. But anyway, I will do my prototypical chrono-blog now. Here it goes.
FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We awoke, as we are wont to do, in the morning. Diego made us eggs because he is great. It poured rain....we bided our time, and awaited fairer skies. Then, we took to the streets for our morning ride. Just a short jaunt, really, but enough to stay loose.
FRIDAY, 12:00 pm
We returned to the Hardman home for lunchies and obviously more Portlandia. Is this blog boring? It seems boring. I am trying to make it funny.
FRIDAY, later
We set off for the race in East Troy. How do I know the name of this race? I didn't have to look it up! No sir!
It was a surburban sort of place, all the houses wood-paneled and similar-but-different in the sort of homey way you might imagine. We parked, and set about our business. Again with the wristbands; today, cowprint. Very appropriate.
Then, warmup--I listened to "Jimmy Iovine" on repeat and whispered, "CRUSH THEM!!!!!" to myself as I did spin ups. I think this is the key. You have to want to destroy people, in this sport. It has to be a fun thing for you, to take everything they think they are and crumble it into a ball. Each day I feel myself get a bit angrier, as I watch my bank account go from $300.00 to 126.00 to fifty. Not really "angrier". Maybe that is the wrong word. But it is a certain pressure. And this makes me happy, because I know the thing before me is something I can do. It is a certainty in my uncertain life.
The race just before ours suffered a chaotic crash with 20 to go; we had to wait for the poor man to be stabilized and transported away before we could stage. I sat staring at the course with a stupid look on my face; there are no nerves anymore.
When we finally began, I was, again, relegated to 70/70th position, sitting sadly last wondering how I could possibly move up from here. A girl's number was pinned incorrectly; we all waited as she repinned. The moments went by. The peloton sat silently, each hoping the worst for the other, each hoping this race held some new success in store.
The course was a punchy six corners. This makes things much more difficult for me, because I am good at hammering on a flat. I am less good at technical riding--but I improve all the while.
Anyway. It was a desperate need to move forward for sixty minutes. I saw Vanessa in 10th position and told myself, "you need to be there!" but the trouble is, sixty other ladies are also saying this. Damn them!
I was sloughed off in the final lap by riders pinging off the back (though I'd tried my best to move up, move up!) I pushed my hardest and caught only the very tail-end of the group. It was good for 32nd place. I remember looking up the road and thnking, "the race is up there." For all my effort, I was not even in the race.
FRIDAY, 5:00
Vdrigo and I met up to watch Diego's race. I was violently beamed with an ejected water bottle during this 90 minute period. Just throwing that out there.
Diego's race ended with another stupid UHC sweep (of course) and directly afterward we went out for dinner at a place where they served beer. WHEEEEEEEE
Golly this is exhaustive. My eyes are tired!
SATURDAY!!!!!!!!!!
That is today! The morning: breakfast, pre-ride, and lunch. And, of course, more portlandia. Anyway, the race. The race is what we should be interested in, isn't it? Yes.
It was a course that probably should have suited me. Wide turns, and a slight uphill to help me hold position! things should have been very good!
Anyway, it happened mostly as it always does. It began, I clipped in spectacularly, and we were off. I was turning as well as I could ever expect myself to, and the pace was not too difficult. I was moving up aggressively along any open line, and I even reached the very front of the group. A modest goal, yes. But I did it and that is something.
So, there was a large crash about halfway through the race. Nobody really knew what happened, but I did see a girl's front fork sheared off her bike with the wheel still attached. It was traumatic to see, but more traumatic because I was behind it and forced to chase for the next two laps. It was damnably bad luck, but something I allowed to happen by BEING TOO FAR BACK AHHHHHHHH. Curses.
There was another crash in the final corner, just in front of me. I whipped around to finish just behind the peloton. 34th, i think.
Tomorrow is another day. I fight them harder! I am tired of writing. I go sleep now. HAMMPPPPPPP
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