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Climbing Sheephole; Partying in Twentynine
Mad props to Mad Cow. Midway up the Sheepole climb, Jay Kilby received a well-deserved hand massage courtesy of a crew member. But it wasn't Mad Cow's hands that were particularly sore, but rather his neck, which had become completely fatigued and had begun to fail to hold up his head. Still, onward he rode to the summit and an eventual finish.
One by one, van lights blinking in unison, riders made their out of Amboy, salivating at the prospect of the finish line 50 miles away. Chartreux. Eland. Lhasa Apso. And dozens of others.
Teams battling to best their closest rivals. Competition within age groups. But mostly, the never-ending fight with a cyclist's own demons, keeping doubts and self-defeating talk at bay--a task that becomes more difficult with each passing hour of the race.
The fastest riders have their own challenges--heat, for example, applied by both the sun and their rivals. For those near the back of the pack, the race takes on a different flavor; jousting the clock as much as anything else.
Slowly, the "DNF" list grows longer. Sparrow, Sea Ray, Gray Hare, Oso Loco, Zombee, Leviathan, Newfoundland, and Sheephead don't make it to the finish, but all give a valiant effort. Perhaps there's a promise of "next year" given by those facing disappointment today.
Kitty Kitty Bang Bang, an ebullient 4x women's team celebrates at the finish line alongside the Blue Footed Boobies, a 2x women's FIXED gear team. Laughter and back slaps drown out the groans of discomfort and pain. Smiles vastly outnumber the grimaces. And the "clink" of finisher medals being handed out fills the air with a sweet percussion. The clock continues to count down, and everyone waits for the next finisher to join the party. |
