To Cyclocross Season, With Love.
It’s finally goddam here.
My first race is tomorrow. I’ve been home from my three week world tour for 2 days. I’ve been on my bike 2 days in the past month.
I could give a shit.
Wanna know why? Where do I start?
- It’s raining. Wait. That’s not true. It’s not raining, but they are promising that is will piss rain tomorrow. Hello! This is early rain for cyclocross season! Barlow is supposed to be dry. I HATE dry. Give me rain. Make it torrential. Tear that course apart. Make it so hard I want to weep. Soak me to the bone. Cover me with mud.
- I have a team. Last year I raced alone. And not just by myself, but lonely style. I don’t do road racing, I don’t go on club rides. I spend the spring and summer months rocking softball tournaments across the state. I’m an off-season rider. Therefore, I’m not very connected in the community. At the start of every race last year I sat quietly, contemplating turning around and quiting (sometimes actually leaving the start line only to be coaxed into returning by Sal). This year? I have a crew. I have a CREW! This is so cool I can’t even explain. I am team oriented, it’s how I’m built. It’s why I don’t like triathlons or marathons. I’m an emotional jock, I need people to rely on and become one with.
- I am the gateway drug. Sherry, who came to every race last year, is finally racing. It’s so effing exciting to have her as a teammate and to watch her overcome her hesitation! She is going to kill it and I am going to get all choked up watching her do it.
- Tent city. Ohmygod. We have a tent! A tent to warm up under. A tent to cook hot dogs under. A tent to snuggle under. A tent under which to place heating elements and barbeque grills! Last year, Sal and I rigged an umbrella to a cycling workstand in order to acquire just enough shelter so that we could warm up without getting totally soaked. It was a pretty innovative solution, and we got a lot of compliments on it, but dude – having a real team tent is going to KILL!
I’m sure in the middle of my race I’ll be cursing the sport and wishing I was in center field tracking long-balls, but right now I’m excited.
This is better than Christmas Eve, people. And you can take that to the bank!
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