So I had my first DNF this weekened. After 3 seasons of Ironman and 1+ of bike racing, I guess my time had come. Damn CO2 cartridge pulled the valve right off my tube. I was left tubeless and airless. But my baby Moots got to ride in the back seat of a cop car while I sat shotgun. She was quite the hottie back there.
Top 10 moments of this fabulous weekend:
Numero diez: Convincing the cop that stopping just before the finish line atop Haskins to let me out was really, really a bad idea since the P/1/2 and 35+1/2/3 races hadn't finished and there we were blocking that one lane...he said it was ok that he didn't pull over to the side since we'd only be there for a minute...um...how do you tell a cop he's mistaken?? I convinved him to cross the line and pull over afterwards. He was a great guy, though, and waited around for a very long time for me down on 84 as I tried to flag a recreational biker down for a spare tube and pump.
Numero nueve: Riding shotgun in the cop car, yelling good tidings to my teammates as we descended back to town.
Numero ocho: Unpacking boxes and hanging artwork from my apartment on Merkeley's walls. We're finally really moving in!
Numero siete: Saduko on the porch. Good lord, we're addicted.
Numero seis: Sitting on the deck post Pescadero, drinking mojitos under the setting sun.
Numero cinco: This cop in Pescadero, cracking me up with his musings about why in the world anyone would drink mint water when the tap water tastes so fine.
Numero cuatro: A kick ass ride with our neighbohood boys on Sunday. 55 miles of pure pain all wrapped up in a big attack-fest and Hans yelling at me to stand up and attack at the top of Papa Bear. I'm still wondering if my yelps were cries of pain or joy.
Numero tres: Post attack-fest, inhaling take-out from Barneys...Turkish coffee milkshake, curly fries, and a big ole cheeseburger.
Numero dos: Sunday afternoon BBQ with good pals, homemade sangria and this crazy lime/tequila carne asada maranade which Merkely B cooked up.
Numero uno: Merkeley B and I eating all that brandy-soaked fruit out of the sangria pitcher after everyone went home last night. I'm no longer sure there's any reason to drink Endurox...sweet dreams!
Monday, June 26, 2006
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3 comments:
you totally should have asked that cop to write you a fake ticket
for speeding
uphill.
Were you in one of those fancy cop cars.
No shit, while I was sitting atop Haskins (after my DNF because I got two flats, one in my left leg and one in my right) a parade of classic cars came through. They were escorted by three CHP, one was driving a Cayman, one a 911, and one a Cayenne...all painted CHP B&W!
Craziest thing...even the cops on the Peninsula have nice cars.
Fancy? No. I think it was a Chevy. But it was enormous. Although I took my front wheel off, I swear my bike would have easily fit in the back seat with not wheel removal.
And OV, yea, I think at our next pre-race meeting we'll brainstorm a team plan for anyone off the front in a cop car...
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