We have to cross a big highway to get to the start. I make it over in the first wave of Froggers. I assume we're waiting on the rest of the riders to catch up as we slowly cruise into the campground on the other side of 322. I see Dave Pryor pull off and point at a buffalo, exclaiming "BUFFALO!" The pace picks up just a bit. People must be in a hurry to get a good place at the start.
We make our way up a grassy road. Around a deer fence. I plod along slowly, thinking we'll pull over at any moment to line up for the start. Impatient racers come by me, seemingly annoyed. I start to wonder if I missed something...
Joël Nankman comes up behind me.
"Dicky, what are you doing?"
"Did we start already?"
His response confirmed my suspicions and assured me that I'm a moron two days running. Shit.
Once I get down on to a gravel road, I throw my false sense of indignation towards making up time. I pass Dan and Axel... only to explode and have Axel climb back by me when I implode. Dan puts me in his rear view on a descent. Shit.
My nose is once again a pollen-snot spigot that will not turn off, pouring salty goodness into my mouth all day long.
I get to a trail on the side of the road. Mike Kuhn is there... yelling... something at everyone. I have my headphone in, so I assume he's yelling, "YOU'RE MY HERO!" to me... personally.
He's yelling, "HOLE!"
I proceed to fall into the hole.
Spohn was behind me at one point (flat tire?), but he came by me stupid strong on Lonberger. I had assumed I was out rigid forking him all over the place based on our Enduro™ section times, but apparently not. He left me stupefied in a hot, humid minute.
I musta gotten past Dan on a climb somewhere, but as we approach Tussey Ridge, he out maneuvers me on a technical section (right after I get in Kaysee Armstrong's way... sorta, but not really).
photo cred: Firespire Photography