Crashzalot from Parkisde #2

I have just realized the one and only reason why anybody ever shows
up to race at Parkside; the ABR officials know all of us cycling die-
hards are absolutely quivering with competitiveness after a long,
docile winter in the trainer. In fact, we are quivering so much
with competitiveness, we have resorted, in a last act of
desperation, to racing in a few layers skimpy spandex in
temperatures unfit even for the Iditarod. That's why we don't bring
our dogs to pull our bikes along (due to frozen legs), because the
dogs would either 1) keel over dead on the spot, or 2) viciously
attack the ABR officials for their warm coats/shelters/coffees, and
then we would be DQ'ed on the spot.

But that's beside the point of this rider report. I am
supposed to be writing about my racing experiences in the blustery
arctic land of Parkside. Hence, "rider report". So after warming
up (ha ha, very funny) and correcting a mistake for the ABR
registration volunteers (which involved including the cat. 3 women
with the cat. 4 women) I rolled up to the start line absolutely
quivering with competitiveness. The whistle blew and off we were
into the deep tundra of Parkside. Now I must pause here for a
moment to apologize for the extreme exaggeration of Parkside's
weather. It was actually quite a lovely day for Parkside; it was
only –50 degrees out. What cold there was didn't deter me, though,
for I made sure to stay in the top five riders, poised and ready to
pounce at the first sight of opportunity. The field of roughly 15-
20 women shattered in just the first few laps of the race, leaving
masters (who also raced at the same time) and women sprinkled across
the course, much like multi-colored sprinkles that are decoratively
scattered on a delicious-looking cupcake.

For about half the race I sat in, lazily sucking wind from
the lady who was working her bum off for most of the race. Then,
just when I was sure I couldn't contain my quiveryness anymore, a
master attacked and I jumped with him, and sat on his wheel for
several hundred feet before coming around and offering help to work
together. He didn't say anything, but obviously refused to draft me
as he persistently kept coming around me again and again. Then,
just as I was about convinced that this guy was a total doochbag,
Bob Lundburg loudly informed me that women weren't supposed to draft
masters. And just when I thought I had made practically made all
the mistakes I could possibly make, I was shown that there are
plenty more mistakes I still have to make before I can actually seem
like I know what I'm doing. So I continued my solo escapade to a
sure first place out of sight of the pack.
Several hours after my women's race I rolled up to the line
yet again, this time amidst riders with super expensive looking
bikes and even nicer looking calves. Yes, folks, I was racing with
the cat. 3 men…and yes, folks, I know that I'm crazy, you don't have
to remind me.

I hung at the back of the group of 30 or so riders because I
didn't want to get in anyone's way or end up sending someone over a
curb or something. Let's put it this way, I wanted to leave with a
good impression on the cat. 3s and not jump in the 3s later in the
year with the reputation of a psycho women bent on seeing how many
3s she can flip in the course of one race. About half the race went
smoothly with me on the inside at the back, somewhat easily cruising
along practically waving to all the people at start finish as I flew
by. That is of course until my contact came out and quickly turned
my joy ride into a freakish experience. I guess if anyone asked me
I could say it got a little blurry at that point. It was that
hellish contact that caused me to slam on my brakes, leap off my
bike, have my mom attempt to stick it back in after dousing it with
sports drink and having it fall on the ground several times, sail
into the restroom, and charge back into the race with only having
lost two laps in the mean time. It was then I finished the race
having the bragging rights that I "placed with the cat. 3s", but
have still yet to find out whether they actually included my name in
the results (I'll take last, thank you very much).
Even though there weren't very many ABDers at Parkside,
there were still some notable results: Mike Redlich (jr) finished
strong in the top rankings with the juniors, Rob Jungles (15th) and
Ron Cook (11th) also ranked well in the 30+ men's category, all
alone with no place to take except a fantastic 3rd, Ryan Cooper
really displayed ABD's colors well in the cat. 4 race, and the other
lonely women (besides me) was Gina Kenny who rode valiantly to a
women's cat. 4 pack finish.

Till next time…

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