I finally got to race my bike this weekend at Pescadero. Instead of being captive by either bad legs or so called "team tactics" (which usually means a group of slightly slower guys puttering around the course jumping on all levels of attacks, sitting on and squeaking something about having a guy up the road (yeah, wouldn't you have better odds if you were in the break too? Oh wait don't you have 8 guys in the race and only one in the break of 8?)). Though, now that I think about it, it could've been my 15lb bike and not my legs that got me through the day.
Anyway- it was fun. I got to stretch out my legs on the climbs, which felt a lot better than the last month or so, and got to inflict the other fools with the same 'tactics' that I've endured all year. Sucks doesn't it? Do you realize that it's not really racing yet? NO - of course you don't.
Dylan won, but then didn't win when some guy pulled out his slide rule and measured the distance over the yellow line that Dylan had been forced to go in the sprint. Oh well, at least we all know who really won the race, but it would have been nicer if the ones and zeros added up the right result.
Blanco and I hit Arcangelli's over in town, grabbed a sandwich and as much bread as we could carry and headed back over the hill.