The race would have been one of the most fun courses had it not been raining, and snowing and hailing. As it was, it was still a blast, but one hell of a workout. The bottlenecks were fierce, and on a few of them I just said to hell with the lines, I'm going for it, and made my own line. That worked out pretty well, except once, when I ended dropping the bike twice on the bank of this post river crossing climb. That rock gets super slippery after 102 minutes and five hundred ten riders sliding over it! I still rode up it, though, mister 95 E. And then the next climb! When I pulled up it looked like ants climbing the hill! There must have been a good twenty bikes and riders all packed on the hill--all off and pushing--fighting their way to the top. Four guys and I staged a coup and decided that the hill was rideable with a run-up, and we blocked the line behind us. We let those who insisted go by, but by the time the hill cleared, I was third in the lineup and the first to make it all the way up, full pass. What a feeling, especially with the pressure of twenty plus riders watching from the bottom. Clutch, you're my bitch. Then I passed a couple riding two up--somebody ran out of gas. There were riders strewn on the course, and it felt good to make it to the end of the first loop.
Beck made it to check five before houring out, and I made the first loop just fine, but by the start of the second I was shivering and exhausted--I chose to pack it in. I kind of regret it now, but the office is like seventy degrees. It was freezing at Clear Creek.
Riding through snow, though, was a blast. I always laugh outloud during races--a little of 'I'm actually racing motorcycles' mixed in with adrenaline, but cresting the first climb with snow on the otherside was a new feeling. I laughed for a good mile or so.
