An experience such as witnessing the National Championships of Cyclo Rossing just hours from my house was as incredible as one could ever hope for and just as scarring as anticipated. I have to thank Grant from Swiftwick for making 90% of it all possible, and for somehow finding Nick Dip 'N Spray Barlow pretty much as soon as he got there, thus adding to the happy fun times and potential madness.
What I remember... not a whole lotta photographic evidence since I did my best to keep my phone in my pocket to reduce my overall financial liability.
I've never been behind the wheel of a car on a Friday night in downtown Asheville looking for a parking spot. I will never do that again.
The beer at Wicked Weed made it all worth it. Thanks to Nick for being the Jesus that took my wheel so I could soak my sads until they were happies.
Waking up Saturday was made better by 40oz of coffee and an artisinal breakfast burrito. We had to jaywalk race another group to get in line in front of them, but worth it.
Heckling junior riders is a weird thing. I was pretty fragile at that age. I think I'd take up golf or some other sport that's financially available to a kid with a cross bike equipped with Di2.
Beer makes some of the guilt associated with heckling juniors go away.
The free beer at the SRAM tent was a semi-pleasant surprise. Like warm quicksand in a cold desert. With a slightly better end result.
I'm glad someone said we should eat again before we went to the Liberty Bikes/Industry Nine party. I probably wouldn't have lived to see the pros race the next day without whatever I ate inside me to soak up the free beer.
The party was awesome. I saw so many happy shiny faces. Pretty sure.
I might have eaten hallway food back at the hotel. By "might," I mean I did. And it was good. I also "lost" my phone but not really.
Sunday started in a dark hole. Grant saved the day with breakfast sammiches, and as we drove into the Biltmore, his "they're with me" finger waving got us a parking spot right where we had no business being.
Noelle let me borrow her murder coat.
photo cred: PipI don't think it kept me any warmer, but I was less concerned about anybody spilling beer on me.
Watching the U23 race, the most thrilling part was watching the only guy I saw all weekend on a drooper post totally slay the wicked slick descent. I feel like at some point, it's gotta be an option for all those people who get sketched-out on steeps.
photo cred: Greg Schisla
The men's pro race? No squirrels, no droopers, no surprises. J Pow destroyed and other people rode their bikes somewhere behind him.
photo cred: PipI don't know any of these people.
Also of note, I'm a moron. I brought two pairs of riding shoes and no other footwear. Even more moronic, I never once clipped in and rode my bike anywhere.
That's it. I hope nobody is disappointed. I certainly am not.