Monday, January 30

Icycle success: I lived to live another day

Another Icycle behind me, and I'm glad I went along for the ride. Although the "results" do not reflect a successful weekend of bike racing, everything in between was pretty sweet.

Zac and I arrived a little late to the party on Friday. 10:00PM shouldn't be considered too late, but when the party started at 2:00PM, there would be some catching up to do.

Party symmetry on the front porch at 27°.

There were some sad moments. A beer shortage occurred at some point that could only be solved by the arrival of Kurt and Gwyn. Jon Danger Evans lamented his temporarily empty coozie with a single face palm.

But then the evening went back on as planned and not.

Breck Epic shirt, Trans-Sylvania Epic hoodie, Epic evening.

There were two bathrooms in the three bedroom cabin. There were twenty bathrooms outside the three bedroom cabin.

photo cred: Jon Danger Evans

When I woke up, I could not find my keys or my cellphone. The keys were in a crack of the couch I sort of slept on, but after at least an hour of frantic searching, I could not find my phone. I looked in the coolers, the trash, the fridge, under and on top of everything, and several places I never went in the cabin. I had all but given up hope, and then miraculously it appeared...

in Kurt's pocket.

Registration hangover, lost valuables, lung butter from a cold that won't let me go, below freezing temps, an unorganized duffle that has been tossed and shuffled in multiple mad attempts to find my phone, farts that smelled like a burnt baby doll, a certain lack of desire to eat, the regrettable decision to preregister thus forcing my hand to race when I feel like three sacks of shit shoved into one proper shitbag.

I watched the first wave of racers go off around 11:00AM on an empty and very angry stomach.

photo cred: Eric Wever

In between the throbs in my head, I managed to spectate, cheer, get my shit together, eat something, and kit up for our 1:00PM start.

The race started LeMans style (running to the bikes)...well, at least the guys in front of me were running. I was dropped immediately by 90%+ of the field, and when I looked over my shoulder, I only saw two guys lollygagging behind me. Shit.

My nose felt like I had been snorting the corrosion off an old car battery and my throat was pinched down to a fourth its normal size and dry as the West Texas wind. My off the back start put me way further back then I wanted to be, so I put in a solid effort...

solid for something like ten minutes...

photo cred: Eric Wever

and then I dropped back into obscurity for the rest of the race.

I did manage a finish of sorts with some people in front of me and the rest behind me.

I immediately hopped on the next shuttle to the top of the DH course in my skinsuit of awesome. I don't remember anybody else wearing a skinsuit in the back of the U-Haul truck. Fools.

I took three practice runs and then headed back to the cabin, content in the knowledge that the course did indeed go in a downhill manner from top to bottom.

The night downhill race? Everything is different in the dark. I did not have a very clean run. I came unclipped in the air on the step-up root cluster jump and lost my shit once to the point of coming to almost a dead stop. Shit. The Extreme Tomato still crushed my time and he took the time to roll around in the dirt for 5-7 seconds. Shit once more.

But I lived.

At the awards, something got screwed up. They tried to give me third place in the XC race, and then called my name again for second place. I had to explain that not only was I not in third, I was most definitely not traveling with my clone who coulda taken second as well. I handed my schwag bag to Timmy and Zac and let them sort the placings out.

Then there was more beer, multiple fires, a drunk spectator that could no longer stand, a drunk person vomiting off a front porch, scissor fighting, a dance-off, wrestling, party searching, non-party finding, and movie reviews.

Later on, I did spend the rest of the night trying to sleep on the floor while hacking up a lung, but you'll have that.

Wake up to more frost and a mess to clean up,

and then the drive home wondering how many years it will be before I once again return to the Icycle.


Tiles said...

Cool Story

dicky said...

Thanks Tiles.

I did manage to beat quite a few riders with pads, full face helmets, neck braces, seven inch travel bikes...

Little wheels musta held them back.

tiles said...

you must be very proud of yourself...

dicky said...

Your mom called and told me that I was the son she never had.

brado1 said...

Kick'em in the BALLs

wv: redistra

Anonymous said...

Kickasp! 2nd and 3rd!!!

Anonymous said...

at least that dick, nick the stick didn't try to throw you in a fire.