Slow moooooving racers

Finally got out to 'race' this past weekend. Red Barn CX is another great, fun place to race. Of course, the men's beginners are up first, which means getting up and hitting the road around 0700. It was cold out, still dark even, when I drove north. The race staff had been there longer, and would be there all day, so I shouldn't whine, but it was chilly chilly.

It was a costume race, and I broke out the sacred cow getup with ironically appropriate cowbell. Getting there early enough to ride the course twice was a big help. (Slow learning curve...) I started in the back row, figuring I'd only get in people's way or push myself beyond skill level if I did my first race in the middle of the pack. I think I was 55 of 56 out of the gate.

Unlike last year, I didn't think I was going to die from the end of the first lap until the middle of the third lap--you know, that 'This is stupid. I probably have asthma. My foot might be broken. I should just stop now and protect my testicles.' etc etc, the insidious comforting whispers of quit-mind.

I passed a handful of folks--and held most of them off. There was a good battle/race somewhere in the apple trees for the top spaces, and, far behind in the sticks, there were the rest of us. My handling was a bit better than last year; my conditioning felt much better; I enjoyed it a good deal. Sloppy and rusty/absent actual skills, but I managed all right.

Good fun to have the other plodders mock each other for getting passed by a cow.



I had to leave directly after my race, and never heard whether I won the costume contest. If I didn't, that's some bullshit. Seriously. I raced as a cow. Fuck Super-Mario Brother: that was just a mustache...