Terlingua

Defining moment of the weekend: Riding directly for the mountains of Chihuahua in the lead group 1 hour into the race. I had just pulled off my full-fingered cotton gloves that I had over my half-fingered cycling gloves, because I was finally starting to sweat a bit in the 40 degree, windy weather. I pulled them off, shook my hands to cool them off and just looked around in amazement at the scenery.

Joel, who was on my wheel and eventually won the race 4 hours later, asks me, "How does that feel?"

"Feels good."

I was the 5th of 6 wheels in that train and 4 hours later, I was able to come in 4th overall out of about 50 that lined up at the start, shivering and teeth-chattering.

The final 75 minutes of that race for me were pure urgency. I had managed to put a slight gap on a couple of other riders, and was just barely out of sight, but I knew on the Tres Cuevas climb they'd be able to see me, and use that as more motivation. I also didn't know if I had enough in the legs to not blow up in the final hour, of which 3/4's was uphill.

You know that fearful feeling you have had in real life OR in a dream where you are being chased? That's the only thing that got me to keep pushing. I went so far as to ask the only course marshall at the top of the mountain if there was still a guy behind me and if he would describe his uniform to me. He confirmed the guy was still there, about 75 meters behind me, I estimated.

From there on, everytime I got over a hump or turn in the course where I knew I couldn't be seen, I went as hard as I could, just to get out of sight. Eventually, the fast, fire-road descent started, and I kept pedalling as hard as I could the whole way down, save for some sketchy loose turns.

At the finish, I was able to accumulate a couple of more minutes of cushion and came across in 4:54:55. 62 miles of tex-mex high desert resulted in the most painful and tired feeling I've ever felt across my neck, shoulders, arms, and lower back.

Payout was the highest I've ever gotten to enjoy, and it paid for nearly all of my racing and travel expenses this past weekend, which is very nice. Sitting around for awards looking like LDP in Stand and Deliver, according to Quintana:

That night I saw ppl that I never thought I'd see drinking, get very drunk. One of the best things about this race is that it's on Saturday on President's Day weekend, so we actually get to spend the night and party, which is rare.

The Weary Boys played outside in the 40 degree windy weather, drinks were spilled, a bottle of Tito's handmade vodka was passed around just like wine at Catholic Church service. The bon-fire was jumped by a normally straight-laced, but that night, crazy-eyed semi-pro. He made it over safely, but then fell sideways nearly back into the fire.

The next morning, the wind had died down (go figure), and we packed up camp. Ate breakfast at a cool little restaurant in Terlingua, and drove into Big Bend park.

We went on a 2 hour hike to purge our sins from the previous night.

Got to see lots of wild life.



Spot the 3 blurry javelinas