Wednesday, April 3

Triple Dip v20.24

For the uninitiated, the Triple Dip v20.24 was twenty five or so miles of party paced riding interspersed with six racing stages that were promised to be harder and longer than in previous years.  Anticipated saddle and titty-dicking time of about nine hours.  Yeth, nine hours.

The Pie was kind enough to drop me off at the start, so I'd finally be able to enjoy more than one beer at the awards ceremony.  Bless her heart.  In the parking lot, I loaded my fanny pack with one of Jordan's breakfast burritos, which I was fortunate to have, being that my planned preparations the night before were mangled by two hours of unexpected paperwork for my mom's new residence. 

It's a quick (for the Triple Dip) thirty five minute ride over to Riverwalk for the first stage.  I try to listen closely to RJabroni's race directions, but it's a muddled mess in my head.

"Go right but stay left and left again but up a hill that you'll see two times I mean three times and come through the creek three times I mean two times and finish?"


"Racers ready..."

Keith takes off.

I look at Seth.  He goes.  I follow.


Everyone else takes off... I guess.

I follow Seth's wheel through the first turn where there's a couple paper plates stapled to a tree with arrows on them.  One is encouraging, one less so.  Seth went left.  I go left.  The riders behind me, for the most part, go right.

"You're going the wrong way!" I hear someone shout way down the hill.  Guessing that I'm going the less popular way, and that someone would be yelling at the larger group... dunno.

I stay hard left, and Bonnie decides to join me.

In the end, supposedly we went the correct way but ended up missing a turn whilst the people behind us went the wrong way but ended up back on course whilst Bonnie and I went on a much longer but pleasant bike ride waaaaaaaaaaaaay off course.

At least I no longer need to worry about "performance" any longer, and since I'm hacking up a lung and spitting out oysters every time I stop riding, mebbe I won't try anymore?

Anticipating a long ride to the next stop, I pull out my breakfast burrito and consume the whole thing... not knowing we were less then a mile from the next stage of intense racing action.  I at least understand the directions a little better, since we were doing portions of the Winter Shart Tarck course (albeit backwards).  I don't particularly remember any official start of the race, but I hear people yelling at me from behind to go, so I do.  I get the hole shot, give up the trail to a much faster than me Seth, ride two laps of what I'm pretty sure is about 90% of the correct course, and finish second.  Kinda.

I'd done the third course in previous years' Dips.  I know to line up towards the front, as the trail is mostly super narrow.  Still, I somehow end up behind the guy on a cyclocross bike, and I'm very aware that there's a super chunky rock garden climb that ain't gonna work out so well for him.  I manage to get around him with only Seth and an e-bike in front of me, but Keith took the bridge shortcut on the last lap avoiding the gnarly climb, thus snagging second.  Cheating isn't against the rules, since there are no rules to begin with (except pick up your trash), so there really is no "cheating"... so I make sure I grab the card for second place anyways.

All images from Mary Kaye Zugelder 

Fast guy Seth being better at bikes than me.

Fast guy Keith also being better at bikes than me.

Just me being the best me I can be.  Both Seth and Keith have moto backgrounds, so I'm going to tell myself I don't suck.

I forgot to mention that there were blow-up pirate cutlasses randomly strewn about the woods.  They would be worth something.  Race points?  Prizes?  The honor of carrying blow-up toys around in the woods all day for no reason?  Figuring if they were worth anything in terms of race points, I made it my sole purpose to find as many as I could.  I'd found two before we even left the third stage.

Details get a little fuzzy after that.

Seth had to leave because he had no idea this was a nine hour thing.  He normally doesn't take that long to cover 35-40 miles.  He hands me his playing cards (points) and heads out.  I don't plan on using his earned points but mebbe?

The number of people still racing starts to dwindle on the final three stages.  Racers turn into party pacers as the day drags on.  It's the nature of the beast.  Keith and I are going toe-to-toe'ish at the pointy end, him taking stage four, and with both of us missing the final turn on stage five, I get a lucky off-trail line straight through the woods to finish ahead of him by a smidge. 

I also find two more cutlasses.

At the final shirts-off stage, I almost miss the start because I'm not paying attention.  I mean, this year many of the spectators decided to join the shirts-off party, so I had no idea the racers were lining up without me. 

Keith gets the early lead, and the course winds up and down the edges of a few random gullies.

Only including this pic since it looks like Keith is riding around with me in a toddler carrier behind him.

I get around him on a climb when I see a spot, hoping to take one legit "W."

"I can see where we can cheat."

There's an up-down and another up-down right next to each other where one could avoid a trip back down and up the hillside.

"Nah, I want all of it."

Keith takes the option on the last lap, so I end up in second place but feeling much better about playing Seth's cards for points.  Mebbe with that and my found plastic swordery, I could still be the fastest man-person?

Back at Hobo's for the awards.  Points tallied.  I get fastest man-person award, Jason second fastest man-person.
Keith takes home the coveted Triple Dip cup for the year. 

He'll have some big clown shoes to fill, because as I started accessorizing the cup in its first year (that would be my hoppy pen__ on the middle tier), last year's winner Ryan did the same and took the game to a whole new level by bringing a portable rear rack mounted bar.
I'm expecting Keith to bring a bounce house and a five gallon jug of baby oil.

Anyhoo, nothing really matters other than yet another year of riding along with the rolling dad joke that is the Triple Dip. 

Thanks everyone and everybody.

1 comment:

RJ said...

Nest year, it will be more better. We promise, just like every year.