Polluting the Pond- Tour of Fairbanks Part VI (The Non-Response)

After the Tour of Fairbanks, I wrote some not-so-nice things about the end results of some very nice people's efforts. It was my five-part magnum opus on how I thought they were screwing up all that was good and wonderful about the race and replacing it with something that amounts to the seventh sign.
Looking back, on a lot of points I think I was right. On others, I may have been wrong. On the remainder... I blame the narcotics I was taking for my screwed-up back. I didn't type that. The green-striped unicorns did. My dealer, Rainbow McPushypants, can back me up on that point. In the interests of full disclosure, I Googled "funny drug dealer names", and that one jumped out at me. My real pusher is a military doctor, and her name only makes me giggle when I'm on the medications she prescribes.
A month and some change later, I raced in the Tour of Anchorage. Some of the same issues cropped up that I whined about so forcefully in Fairbanks. Could it be that Fairbanks is the bellwether for Alaska cycling? I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
I asked Chris Knott to write a rebuttal post to counter my filthy lies about the Tour of Fairbanks. Mainly I was looking for someone else to write the blog for me, but I also like Chris a lot and value his opinion and perspective. I was probably going to edit it to include glowing references to my tactical savvy and overall racing prowess, but essentially he was going to be able to speak directly to my mom and those three Micronesian guys that are trying to learn to speak English good by reading this here blog.
Then life happened. Wildfires. Work. Family. Vacation. Bike riding. Chris had some stuff on his plate.
A little while ago, when everything calmed down, I made the offer again. A wheel-sucking douchebag like me should never get the last word, except on those rare instances when I win. Then you're going to hear all about it.
He declined. He said that they'd beat the subject of last year's Tor of Fairbanks to death, pouring over every detail until they wanted to stab their eyes out with sporks. That was an experience he would rather not relive, Instead, they were focusing on next year's race and looking for ways to improve it.
Well, that doesn't fill in the blog form for me. Selfish bastard.
You know what? My back doesn't hurt so much anymore. If they take my cruel and ill-intentioned critiques to heart and build a solid race experience that is worthy of a 6+ hour drive with a screaming baby in the back of the car, I'll be there. Chances are, if they make a semi-decent attempt, I'll be there. I have to start building my case with the wife in October to have any hope of getting the kitchen pass for June, but I really like racing in Fairbanks.
I'd love to see an even-larger contingent of Anchorage racers head up there to race on their miles and miles of low-traffic roads. More importantly, I'd love to see a large showing from the home town crowd, because there's a good crowd of bike racers up there. I want to see fleshed out fields that don't have to be combined for starts. I want to see human lung Tyson challenged by several strong contenders.
I want to see long, slightly downhill sprint finishes on every stage, so I don't have to work so hard.
I want to be able to drive home with my physical health more or less intact.
I don't expect to win, but it would be nice to be a factor in the race instead an object of pity. 
I think the primary criteria to be considered when planning and executing a good stage race is how much a pudgy, underpowered, wheel-sucking douchebag from Anchorage would like it.
If I like it, it is good.

If I don't, it will be slandered all over Micronesia.


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