The Glory of 113th

Ugh. The Bogus Basin Hill Climb. I hate the BBHC.

It started well. For the first time ever I lined up near the front. There was only like one row of fast guys in front of me. There were like 10 rows of fast guys behind me.

Nonetheless I spent the first mile or so weaving through people as some started slowing and others started accelerating. I felt pretty good. I was flying in fact.

I think it was somewhere around mile 2 that I splattered all over the side of Bogus Basin like a bug on a windshield. I’m not really sure where it happened because it happened so suddenly. One minute ok, the next – not so much.

I think I got passed by about 100 people in half a mile. I was like that guy you see in the pro races who pulls off the front after a long pull and creates havoc as riders going much faster swerve all over to get around him. Yup that was me. Except without the long pull. Without any pull at all in fact.

An island in the stream, that is what I are.

Vrooom, there goes the furry guy. Vroom, baggy shorts guy. Vroom, women. Vroom, children. At least I didn’t cause a crash like those one poor bastards I saw.

One minute I was looking for gaps to shoot through, the next looking for goat heads to run over. Around mile 3 I really needed a flat tire. I knew that I needed a flat tire when I got passed by a guy woes helmet had an antenna topped by a fuzzy ball. Really. I got passed by a guy with a fuzzy antenna ball on his helmet. It was pretty much the worst moment in my life.

He looked over and yelled ‘WooHoo, what a great ride’. Strangely, at this, the worst moment of my life, I achieved my greatest mental feat ever. I thought ‘eff you’ so hard that I am pretty sure he heard it. He looked like he heard it. The expression on his face certainly changed. A little telepathy for you all. How do you like them apples?

At least I think I only thought that in my head.

After fuzzy ball guy passed me I was pissed. I grabbed the next wheel that went by and hung on. Around mile 5 or 6 I started to rally. I started to catch people.

I passed fuzzy helmet ball guy – thank god. I stared him down to see if he was still having a great ride. Apparently not, he didn’t say anything. Yes! I kicked fuzzy helmet ball guys ass!
So I spent the rest of the way passing people. I was feeling better. Either that or my brain disconnected from the rest of me. Two or three miles from the finish I caught Brad Turpin. He had some BYRDS kid on his wheel like a lamprey on a shark. The BYRDS kid had been there a while, I never saw him pull through the entire time I was coming up behind them. When I passed them they jumped on my wheel. When we got to the flat part Turpin pulled through with me while the BYRDS kid sat in.

You know what happened next. About 200 meters out the BYRDS kid starts sprinting. Sprinting for the glory of 113th place. WTF? Props to Brad for beating the greasy little fart to the line. Don’t get me wrong, I love the BYRDS. They are good kids, great riders, and are well coached by some good dudes, but I am about sick of that act.

So it goes I guess. Can’t blame them, they’re just out trying to rock it and kick some ass. I just wish it wasn’t my ass. I am probably just pissed to be robbed of the glory that comes with 113th place. Damn it. I didn’t even get 114th. Yup relegated to 115th. 1:10:45 or something like that.

How embarrassing.Better luck next time.