SSWC09 part the third- you're sick of this by now

image from Golden Age Comic Book Stories


Alternately titled: "What's your gear, Bro?"

Up and technical. Up was the word. Technical was a word. By now you've seen coverage and pictures other places (if you're innerested), which is nice because I knew I'd end up breaking the camera if I raced on it, and words are hard to come by. I actually registered for and paid for this race. #835 is my number.

My personal observations and highlights:

bitter running guy- I celebrated this guy at first. He blew me away when I passed him on the climb out of town astride his itty bitty 16" Street Demon, not least because in the idle drunken speculations about the course it was mentioned by someone that it'd be a great course to trail run if you could carry your bike. Lo, here was running guy wearing a super gay running short outfit with an external frame pack to strap the bike to for the hike-a-bike sections. I (and upon hindsight probably 834 other people, too) heckled him lovingly (it was done out of love). When I crowed about beating him at the finish he was sour as green apple gum and bitterly told me "Whatever. You couldn't do what I did!", to which I replied "No, I couldn't nor would I want to. It was just a joke. Have some whiskey." But he would not get past his pout. Pity. He was a stud, just a bitter stud.

unicycle guy-Same type of deal. Only I didn't offer him any whiskey on account of that was just dumb, and plus no one had mentioned how unicycleable the course was...

realizations about attraction-I never really gave a lot of thought to sexual fantasies before SSWC09. No, really. Now, I can honestly report that I know I am fetishistic about very small women dressed as CHP officers in tight fitting uniform shirts and short shorts while carrying large black batons. And diminutive women riding singlespeed whilst wearing football pads (What is it with Durango and the football pads? And the knee high sports socks?) Also women dressed in checkerboarded fake leather bodysuits sporting false moustaches. Please to add ladies on skates wielding dull machetes. Regrettably the ladies on skates would not come down off their safely smooth cement pad onto the "neutral ground" of the gravel, no matter how I tried to sweet talk them.

beer stops in first 1/2 mile? 2 of them. The organizers were really on to something with their tactics for spreading out the race.

extended hike-a-bikes- Here I am on the conga line 1st hike-a-bike. Beers and other refreshments flowed up and down the line like...well, like beer and other refreshments. Someone would yell from above or below and someone else would pithily reply from below or above. It was a real smart move on the race organizers' part to break up the race like that. There was zero potential for place improvement through aggressive passing, so everone settled in to pace.

passing- Though I yelled "Track" and "On your left" as often as I thought of it, I only really got serious about passing fools once. Here's how it went down: Shortly after the top out of the hike, the ridge got fairly technical but it's a technical with which I am comfortable. (Look at the connectors in the slabby broken up sandstone, don't look at the cracks and holes, and the lines will be there for you.) I was in line walking behind 5-6 guys when I realized we were walking out of habit/tiredness, and there was a huge gap in front of the lead guy. So I said "We can ride this, y'all. Let's get on." and someone in front said "Yeah." but no one made any moves, just kept walking. I got on and clicked my levers and rode at walking pace "Let's go fellas, we can ride this. It's a race." and no one said or did anything but keep walking. So I got a little louder and said "Get on your bikes or get out of my way!" at which point people scrambled. The 2 yahoos immediately in front of me 1/2 assed it and left their bikes partially blocking the trail, so I had to zig a little. The lead guy (BIG PIG! woot woot) stood off to the side at the base of a 45 degree slab of sandstone that was maybe 6feet high and 12-13feet long. I'd ridden it in pre-ride and knew the line was high, so there I went. I punched over the top like a good race monkey. I did not figure on the dust from 600+ other racers having passed, and my rear wheel slipped shooting the bike away from me and sending me ass first down the slab to tangle up in the bike and bush. The lead guy, whom I'll call Chaos, had to help me up. I picked up my bike tossed "Sorry about all the big talk fellas!" over my shoulder and was gone.

crash-Shortly after that, I dropped my front wheel off a ledge and came to a dead stop. I began to pivot around the front hub, heading for endo. I shoved back as hard as I could and my feet came out but the rear came down and the bike righted. Trouble was, I was 3feet above it horizontal. I cleverly absorbed the impact with the lower left side of my abdomen, only to hear a screechy pop. No pain. Quick check showed the saddle rails to be well and truly _ucked, but not broke. I bent the saddle back into shape as best I could, readjusted the nose down, and raced on. Today I rode the bike down to the shop to use the long pry bar to fully realign the rails. Golden. Try that shi_ with your carbon fibre, bicthes. I would have been gutted by the sharp punjied seatpost. Titanium for life, yo. 200lbs of fury. Rails and post, and do not forget it.

missing a turn- What I said about Durango coming out in droves and ruling it with the course? Forget it. They must have not marked a turn because I got confused and lost on the ridge and skipped the final pitching downhill to the finish/time-check. I knew I'd missed it, but damn if I was climbing back up to come back down, so I cut the course.

whiskey- After the 2nd heinous climb, I wanted beers. I came upon a fellow in a neckbrace at a flat likely looking spot and said "Hey Neckbrace! Y'all got beers?" They had Early Times in giant plastic bottles. It is so lowbrow it only comes in plastic bottles, which is perfect because you're only going to fall on them and bust them in your pocket if they're glass right? Classy.

bacon stop- What it says. People had hauled a table, camp stove, griddle, and 20lbs of bacon to cook up fresh and serve with twinkies and beer. Also, they were blasting Louis Armstrong. They were out of beer. I had 4 of the 8 Schlitz I'd started with left, so I gave them beer. They appreciated the effort.

meeting J__- She was hanging around one of the many beer stops on that side, so as I came up some rotten climb and around a corner there was a friendly face yelling at me and holding beer. That's nice.

the little things- people pulling me aside for safety breaks because they "knew" me from the hike-a-bike. "Hey Pinky, stop! I know you want some of this!"...the amazing support course side...the guy in the black tutu with SEXY TIME written across his sweaty love handled back...the gal who heckled me with "Go Don Johnson!" (not real sure about that one)...the trampoline that some kooks from Carbondale had rigged up in the trees...all the Elvises...



All in all, just a Good Time. Durango, you are not as cool as you think you are, but you did pull off a hell of a race. Thank you.

The lame after party with the loud and boring and interminable basketball game to determine next year's locale between Italy and New Zealand (won) I truly could have done without. $3 for beers? Fuck you, Ska Brewing. I don't even like your beer.