The Triple Dip 20.25

Welcome to the Triple Dip 20.25...

the event where everything is made up and the points don't matter.

Keeping with my recent theme of poorly timed upgrades, I got my new Fox 34SL on Thursday.  There was no way in hell I wasn't going to install it despite having no time to assure that I had it set up properly before a forty mile day interspersed with who knows how many hard efforts on unknown trails.  My excite could be easily palped and could also be easily blamed for my oversight of not adjusting my saddle after putting on a 10mm longer travel fork.  

Meh.

I'll write more about the new front squish when I've had more time on it.

There's probably no point in writing anything close to a blow-by-blow of the six race stages.  The fastest guy on the entire day was not me, and the rest of us barely had a chance. 

I have underwear older than this kid.

Flat stages, sandy beaches, punchy climbs, rooty descents, downed trees,... nothing was slowing this kid down.  Once it was realized that not only was cheating basically ok, it was whole-heartedly encouraged, and that's when the real race began.  Creativity was rewarded and possibly slightly penalized, but the more visible the alternate line selections were to the spectating party pacers, the better...I guess.  If you cut the course and nobody sees it, what's the point?

Pretty sure I got to finish one stage a lap early for the win by taking a half hot dog hand up directly to the mouth. 

I only got lost on the course once.  Another time, Bryan, Basil, and myself missed the cue to head to some start line, and although we weren't technically at the start, once we found the course, we were encouraged to hop in whenever we felt good about it. 

We woulda won had someone not been even better at cheating than we were.

I collected some beads that were meant for something, and then traded those beads for more finisher points, which more than likely (assuredly) did not matter in the least.

Coming outta a steep ditch that if you were 75% likely to make it, the jubilant cheers from the crowd brought your odds up to 100%.  Conversely, if you were only 50% likely to make it, the resounding jeers brought your chances down to a big goose egg.

No shame, Bryan*.  This just shows how stupid deep the ditch was.

Happy to bring home some hardware regardless of efforts, expectations, and extemporaneous obstacles thrown in my path.  I am the second fastest man person (that showed up).

What a wonderful day to once again ride around with a bunch of people whom I more than likely have a shared deep appreciation for some of the finer things in life.  Not great prep for the upcoming Bootlegger 100 garvel race, but better than watching Joe Rogan trying to glean useful health tips.

Oh, and if you're looking for the same kinda fun (with slightly more rules), this is coming up in May:

* Okay, mebbe a little shame.