"What are... Things that go with apples?!" COR-rect!!
Following Saturday's downhill extravaganza (and seriously, if you think it's droll to inner voice Phil and Paul talking about you dancing on the pedals or tapping out a rhythm, it's 1000000x more awesome to envision the British dude freaking out as you're nailing a line in a turn, asking how you even sit down with balls that big), it was back to the pedals at Winchester. They made some nice changes to the course, made it more challenging but still fast, and that what I have to say about that.
Beating one's number is always the goal. Beating your cross results is well and good but the true cognoscenti know that it's beating your number wot counts. My number was 23, and let me tell you the third row is a shit ton better than the 11th. The field was not that huge - there were only two full rows behind me. Whistle blows, raging pack of animals, you know the drill. I won the shit out of the hole shot in the old man b fleet at Winchester last year. Not so much in the a fleet this year. For one, I overgeared myself and lost a ton getting the gear turning over. For two, I was on the third row and some of those guys are fast as bejesus. But I had good nerve and rode appropriately aggressively and settled in somewhere. It was dusty. You couldn't see jack shit half the time.
Going into the new early run up deal, one sailor decided to get all robo-aggro and pass a bunch of people in a way I didn't much agree with. He fell over and ate a bunch of dirt. That's all I have to say about that.
There was much pedaling and Dave F kept falling over which kept allowing me to pass him but then he eventually stopped falling over and I didn't pass him again anymore and that's all I have to say about that.
Cooper and I took about a half a lap to get welded back together like we were all last year. Again he was happy to be a wheel sucking über leech all day except one time I made him lead on the road and then I attacked him hard and he clipped his pedal through a turn and nearly fell over. This was on the last lap so I said to myself PEDAL!!! and I did. Then that bastard caught up to me eventually and I was sad. Then I tried to ride the hill but I was too tired and that sucked because I thought it was over. Then Matt fumbled on a root on the little uphill into the woods and SHAZAM it was me in the front again. Only this year I knew we were on the last lap and so I had a plan. And that plan was to hope he crashed so I wouldn't lose a sprint to him like I did most of the times we sprinted for it last year.
My plan failed.
So we're through the barriers and going through the back deal for the last time and I have to say I was going faster than slowly and I got a crack of daylight between us, so once again I thought to myself PEDAL!!!! and I did. Only I was in the drops and in the right gear and everything. And I went really really fast and he almost caught me but bike throw. So hah. And that was cool.
16th. Beat the number. Neil and John M both had tires that ran out of air sooner rather than later, an I think there was one other dude I beat who I definitely shouldn't have, so beating my number on Sunday is going to be tough as nuts. We'll see.
Props to Gus, it's nice to have him take the hot seat in geezer b from me. I pretty much farted the entire time I was in it if the hot seat feels particularly chaud, Monsieur Gus.
So not a bad start to the Super 8 Big Boy Pants league for me. I couldn't have asked for a lot more, and I think I can make some progress to hang onto the the speedy fellows for a while longer next time.