Going cross on my own ass
"Dear Lord, lemme finish this lap, and I'll never swear again."
"Shit, ooops, shit, I mean, shoot, sorry, sorry, my bad, didn't mean it."
"Shit, this is a long course. Toto, have you seen the Tin Man?"
I completed my first-ever cyclocross race Sunday.
"Dear Lord, I meant what I said, lemme finish the second lap and I'll never, ever curse. I mean it, really this time.
"Is piss a curse? I don't think so. Piss, this hurts. Piss, piss, piss. Pissy piss piss piss."
Cyclocross is mountain biking and an obstacle course. It is a timed event. I rode the C class. Beginners. Thirty minutes to complete as many laps as
I could.
"Dear Lord, please do not let me puke. That banana and the coffee is not going to be pleasant coming back up."
"Lord, scratch that, please let me hork up a lung. If I hork up a lung, they'll have to make me stop - and I'll look good doing it."
I did not finish last, which was my goal. I did not win, which I knew was next to impossible. I hadn't even been in the saddle for a month before the race.
"You know, the thing about cyclocross is, the hurt has a time limit," said a mountain biking buddy. "When the time is up, the hurt is up.
"But when you're out there, you are going to hurt."
Surprisingly, I don't hurt all that bad. I finished and feel good about it (knock that one off 43 Things list). Nearly 100 riders came out, there was a band and my friends were there. When I wasn't deliriously looking to barf up a lung, I could hear people ringing cowbells and giving me encouragement.
The party atmosphere was amazing.
Two weeks to practice for the next timed mayhem.
J-Zone makes hopping logs so damn easy.
I walked the same log.
"Shit, ooops, shit, I mean, shoot, sorry, sorry, my bad, didn't mean it."
"Shit, this is a long course. Toto, have you seen the Tin Man?"
I completed my first-ever cyclocross race Sunday.
"Dear Lord, I meant what I said, lemme finish the second lap and I'll never, ever curse. I mean it, really this time.
"Is piss a curse? I don't think so. Piss, this hurts. Piss, piss, piss. Pissy piss piss piss."
Cyclocross is mountain biking and an obstacle course. It is a timed event. I rode the C class. Beginners. Thirty minutes to complete as many laps as
I could."Dear Lord, please do not let me puke. That banana and the coffee is not going to be pleasant coming back up."
"Lord, scratch that, please let me hork up a lung. If I hork up a lung, they'll have to make me stop - and I'll look good doing it."
I did not finish last, which was my goal. I did not win, which I knew was next to impossible. I hadn't even been in the saddle for a month before the race.
"You know, the thing about cyclocross is, the hurt has a time limit," said a mountain biking buddy. "When the time is up, the hurt is up.
"But when you're out there, you are going to hurt."
Surprisingly, I don't hurt all that bad. I finished and feel good about it (knock that one off 43 Things list). Nearly 100 riders came out, there was a band and my friends were there. When I wasn't deliriously looking to barf up a lung, I could hear people ringing cowbells and giving me encouragement.
The party atmosphere was amazing.
Two weeks to practice for the next timed mayhem.
J-Zone makes hopping logs so damn easy.
I walked the same log.
Comments