Breck Epic '19: Stage Two

So, yeah...

Second place is a great way to start the week.

photo cred: CX Hairs

And I got the chance to finally wear my "ASK ME ABOUT MY BEAR" podium shirt.

We spent a fair amount of Sunday evening sifting through the mess that Stage One had created.

photo cred: Chris M

The bandanna Jeremy had taken up and over Wheeler two years ago and since gifted to me... now a cloth turd on my top tube.

Our bodies were not in the best condition either, and the laundry was a multi-layered affair of soaking, rinsing, and then mebbe some bath tub maintenance.  Our bikes were... aged.

I tended to my semi-functioning drooper as best I knew how, and reached out to my buddy Mike at Fox.  He said he'd get back to me in the morning.

I went to bed, breathing heavily, heart still racing... anxious about tomorrow.

I woke up to pleasant news.  The smart people at Fox had the advice I needed, and my post was back to operating at about 90%.  Had I been smarter (and better prepared) mebbe I coulda got it even closer to 100%.

Anyhoo, Chris and I got out the door earlier than the day before, and somehow found ourselves even further back in the starting grid than on Stage One.

Meh.

From the start, I over-enthusiastically shoot forward with Chris reluctantly following my charge.  He had told me hard starts were not really his thing, and to be honest, they're not mine either.  That doesn't mean that I'm not too dumb to not try tho.

Probably twenty minutes in, we quickly find ourselves in familiar company, and Chris is holding Dirt Rag Sad (day one, so sad) Scott's wheel on the muddy double track.  I see Chris jump into the side of a puddle, and I hear it before I see it.

"Chris, you gotta flat!"

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do.  I can see it going flat."

Chris pulls over and confirms my sad feel.  He is indeed flatting.

Due to the moisture all over the tire and the diminutive size of the puncture, we can not find the hole in order to plug it.  Time to go with a tube and CO2.  Tube in, CO2 punctured... psssssssssssss.

And more pssssssssssssss...

Until all the psssssss had leaked out at the torn stem of the tube.  I grab my CO2 and tube, hand it all to Chris... and he gets to the task of repeating the same procedure as we continue to watch almost the entire field go by our trail-side tragic comedy.  By "entire," that's what I truly mean.  If ever asked, I'd highly recommend never flatting so early into the day.

So, with everything working this time, Chris and I jump into an unfamiliar crowd with zero tubes and one CO2.  Up Vomit Hill to the whisky hand ups.  No reason not to at this point.  How much worse can things get?

Oh, "how much?" you ask.

I put down the shot of whisky set aside for me personally by DAN DURLAND, the one with the fly garnish.

We're now on some of the best descending of the week and finding ourselves stymied by slower riders.  We use our happy "Barney words."  Please, thank you, pardon, excuse me... ummmm, hey?

Sometimes we get by, and other times, we stagnate and lament our sad state of affairs.

Into Aid Station One, grab a spare CO2 and tube... and now we're almost prepared for anything... except mebbe getting a flat while separated by a climb or a descent... an occurrence that happens pretty much all day long.  I drop a base layer into my aid bag... and both Chris and I kinda forget to eat much of anything at all.

photo cred: Ffej Knar

We continue our morose performance all the way into Aid Two and beyond, remembering to pick up more spare bits from our sacks, all while continuing to forget to take care of our personal well being.  We both have some bleary-eyed moments along the way to the finish, and we end up getting what we deserve.

We fell back to third of six Duo Men 100+ overall, losing almost 28 minutes to the team we had two minutes on the previous day.

Derp and doh.