Wednesday, February 1

Winter Shart Tarck '23: Race Two

If there's any pre-dumbling talk worth dumbling, it's that The Pie is outta town, which means that I'm unsupervised and also bored.  With too much time on my hands, I Zwifted thricely in a row (even on Friday when I shoulda took it easy after jumping on a 1.25 hour "Sweet Spot" training ride Thursday), cleaned out the gutters, did our taxes, warshed my car and two bikes, and performed many other menial tasks as I saw fit.  I sober-doped Thursday and Friday, but fail-bailed on Saturday (ran outta things to do).  I'd already prepped my bike almost as soon as I got home after last week's race (damage control), so by Sunday morning, I'd either over-did it or I didn't.  My legs will let me know.

Line up at the start, once again on the far right side which makes no sense since we're all sprinting for a 90° left hand turn.  I'm less worried about the mayhem of a hectic start, since we were looking at some pretty dry conditions when we dive off the pavement... aside from the fact that our numbers grew from 26 last week to 36 this week (WTF, SS ded, right?).  Despite getting clipped in on the first try and sprinting my dick off, I still dive into the trail like 12-15 riders back from the front.  Jeebus.

I make up a few spots on the climbs, as it's apparent that some folks had way more enthusiasm than they did fitness.  Just ahead of me, noodle bar Chase is dangling like an ill-shaped carrot.  Within reach but at some cost, his surges being suited to his weapon of choice aren't matching up with what I got going on.  He's riding toe-to-toe with Jamie, so their mano a mano skirmish is also adding to their efforts.  I have no one behind me to push my any harder...

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi
Well, that is until we have three laps to go in a six lap race.  I can see Roger behind me and oh-so-slowly closing the gap, his full face helmet and yellow leg warmers getting bigger in my rear view mirror on the straightaways.  I feel like I all but gave in when he closed it down with one lap to go.  Look over my shoulder and not see anyone riding like a single speeding idiot.  Put my head down in what feels like utter defeat and pedal to the finish.

Monday morning quarterbacking it, and it doesn't feel much better.  Although my lap times never varied by more than four seconds, I don't think I pushed hard enough on the climbs.  Having Chase as a carrot was great knowing that he was third last week... but then to find out we were both way further back in the field this week?

I got tenth.  And it hurt.  A lot.

I slipped back from 6th overall in points to 7th as well.  

Not so much sure what to do with this information, and with The Pie still gone all this week, not so much sure what I'm gonna get myself into before next Sunday.  With no taxes or gutters to deal with and the final two stages of the pointless Tour de Zwift to knock out before Sunday, my idle hands (and legs) are certain to be the devil's workshop.

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