Slammer 2010: If Only I Had a Lucky Chamois

I threw away my lucky underwear the other day. They were worn out. I mean, they weren't out of luck - just a bit threadbare. There might have been a little hole. Or maybe two. But they were still lucky.

It took exactly one day to regret throwing out the lucky underwear. The dinner I ate Saturday just didn't agree with me. Made my gut pretty much blew up. I may as well have pitched a tent in the bathroom.

That kind of crap just doesn't happen when you are rocking your lucky underwear.

Yeah, I was feeling stellar for my bike race Sunday. I only had to visit the porta potty twice before the start. It was the first time I ever carried toilet paper in my jersey pocket.

The race is called the slammer. I have raced in it maybe the last six years. This was the first year that I figured out that maybe its called the slammer because you race past the prison like 4 times. I'm not the quickest.

I started at the front but quickly moved to the back, because, you know, it would be easier to peel off from there if I had to go. About a mile in I started looking for good places on the side of the road. About 10 miles in I checked my jersey pocket to see if my toilet paper was still there.

That was about the time Matt Woodruff rolled off the front. I don’t really think it was an attack, I think everyone just watched him ride away. Yeah, well, that turned out to be a mistake – but I had bigger problems to worry about.

There are a lot of houses on Cloverdale. It’s a good thing that the 10 or so TUMS that I downed before the start seemed to be working a bit.

About 20 miles in I am thinking that I made one lap, maybe I can make another. I mean, I already outlasted Cody Caldera who seemed to abandon when he saw some friends on the side of the road. Then my stomach gurgled I think I may have passed gas. It’s ok, I was at the back remember.

Sorry wheel car guy.

So I am pretty sure it was a dry one, because it still felt pretty normal down there. I know a guy who told me a story about having a little accident on his chamois during a race once. I am pretty sure it must be true – why would you make that up? Come to think of it, it is the same guy that sells used shorts on eBay.

40 miles in. I think that the gels I had been downing must be holding my stomach contents together in a little Gu ball of hate. I could feel it being angry in there. The good news was that it was content being angry in there and didn’t need to be angry somewhere else.

That Woodruff guy was still out there. You have to be crazy or good to pull that off. Or maybe both. Kurt Holzer was turning himself inside out chasing. I was just busy trying to keep my insides in. Chris Berry worked a lot too. The last few laps Kristo Jorgenson and Angelo Roman did too.

I accidentally took a pull once, except no one was getting pulled. So I am riding along thinking it would be nice if someone pulled through and I look back and no one is there. Nice. Whine, whine, whine about no one working then let me just noodle away off the front. It isn’t like I was going fast or anything – I mean I have got a little Gu ball of hate in my gut. Seriously, I am not fast without a stomach ball of hate – but with one? Ridiculous.

About mile 50 I started to think I might hang on. About mile 59 I am pretty sure I can. At one km to go I am almost positive I can finish the race without stopping for a grunter.

So yeah, that’s how it went down. Here is what I learned...

Matt Woodruff can apparently ride by himself pretty quickly for a long damn time. Jake Turner had shiny legs. Derek Brown has a tattoo on his calf and I still don’t know what it is. You look slimmer if you wear cycling clothes in a bigger size because it negates that ‘tube of biscuits’ look. And one of those Broken Spoke guys needs a pair of bibs or a bigger jersey because his back was sticking out the entire race and it was kind of pasty. Can you tell I spent the whole day in back?

I have got to go find some new lucky underwear.