Moose Run.
I have no idea why I line up for these things.
The first race of the year is traditionally Moose Run, and because I'm a roadie I am somehow obligated to pin on a number for this one if I can't find an excuse not to.
I skip a lot of races every year for various reasons. I skip just about every stand-alone hill climb I can. I already know I'm fat and am fully aware of why, so the reminder is just counter-productive. I skip races because I'm working or out of town. I skip races because I just don't feel like it. I skip races because I think they just sound stupid (I'm looking at you, Potter Valley gravel grinder loopy race thing). I skip races because I fall down.
There are a lot of races I try to make. The Spring Stage Race. The Tour of Anchorage. Bodenburg. Point MacKenzie. Crits that don't involve falling down. I'm usually down for anything flat or gently rolling.
Yeah, and Moose Run.
Chris Knott went a step further. He flew down for it. Paid to fly his TT bike. Hotel. Rental car. Food. All-in. That's dedication. Given the state of the Fairbanks road race calendar, Anchorage and the Lower 48 are his only real chances to pin on a number and race on skinny tires.
Because of this and because I like Chris, I offered to sweeten the deal with a ride or two on the Vamoots DR, which arrived a couple days before. He would be the first one to test ride it after I pulled it out of the box. I tried to put together a group to ride after the TT around base, and had some takers.
The day before the race, the wife threw a monkey wrench into my riding plans, but said I could ride afterwards. Since it was cold and windy and looked like it would rain, of course I invited Chris for a short ride. I really just wanted someone to hide from the elements behind. We sorted out the details and met next to Lake Hood. I was figuring 60-90 minutes of easy riding to open up the legs, so we headed off. It was cold. It was windy. At least it wasn't raining. Then it did. It was more of a light drizzle, so we kept going. We dodged slushy snow and ice on the Coastal Trail, unclipping a foot just in case. We rode casually, linking up courses we usually ride at a more brisk pace. Other than cold toes, we lived. I can't speak for Chris, but I had fun. I mentioned to Chris that I hated to say it, but I was more looking forward to the group ride than the time trial. That's just where my head is these days.
Afterwards we went to Qdoba to gas up (literally) for the next day. It was then I got the message that the race was cancelled. I jinxed it. Permitting issues. Much profanity ensued, although that isn't unusual in any conversation I'm a part of. It had to be beyond frustrating for Chris, although he hid it reasonably well. His angry looks like my happy.
Our group ride was absorbed by Chain Reaction's last-minute "well, I have the time blocked out so we might as well ride" plan, organized by none other than James "Road is Dead" Stull. Will wonders never cease. While we fell short (by about 100) of the numbers signed up for the time trial, it was still a good-sized group- one of the larger ones I've seen up here. A quick out-and-back to the Eagle River Nature Center.
My original concept for the post TT group ride was something civil. Without a race to take the edge off of primed legs, it only took a few miles before people started to take some digs. On the long, gradual descent down to Eagle River the hammers went to the front, opening up gaps. Initially I chased when I found myself behind the split, but that just put me into no-man's land. I could have closed the gap to the front, but I was pretty sure that would have gassed me for the remainder of the ride and all of the hills on the return trip. So I settled in and lost ground. The back caught me at the bottom, then several guys rushed to catch up with the leaders.
I just didn't want to.
Just didn't have the desire to chase. My legs felt fine and I could hang in the draft, but I just didn't feel the need to ache. I sat up and rode moderately, arriving at the Nature Center a couple minutes after the leaders.
Thanks to my superior wrenching skills, Chris had all sorts of derailleur issues with the bike I loaned him, and was in the process of trying to un-fuck the front derailleur when the pack pulled out. Gapped out again, we ground our way back up the hills. At least we had a tailwind this time, instead of the brutal headwind we faced getting there. We re-grouped at a couple spots, but I knew the way and just let them go.
Not interested.
I'm not sure how I would have done if the TT happened. Maybe something would have clicked there. Maybe I would have dug deep and turned in a respectable (for me) performance. Then again, maybe I would have dug deep into my Suitcase of Quit™ and just sat up. Something is missing, and it isn't fat.
I need to ride more.
The first race of the year is traditionally Moose Run, and because I'm a roadie I am somehow obligated to pin on a number for this one if I can't find an excuse not to.
I skip a lot of races every year for various reasons. I skip just about every stand-alone hill climb I can. I already know I'm fat and am fully aware of why, so the reminder is just counter-productive. I skip races because I'm working or out of town. I skip races because I just don't feel like it. I skip races because I think they just sound stupid (I'm looking at you, Potter Valley gravel grinder loopy race thing). I skip races because I fall down.
There are a lot of races I try to make. The Spring Stage Race. The Tour of Anchorage. Bodenburg. Point MacKenzie. Crits that don't involve falling down. I'm usually down for anything flat or gently rolling.
Yeah, and Moose Run.
Chris Knott went a step further. He flew down for it. Paid to fly his TT bike. Hotel. Rental car. Food. All-in. That's dedication. Given the state of the Fairbanks road race calendar, Anchorage and the Lower 48 are his only real chances to pin on a number and race on skinny tires.
Because of this and because I like Chris, I offered to sweeten the deal with a ride or two on the Vamoots DR, which arrived a couple days before. He would be the first one to test ride it after I pulled it out of the box. I tried to put together a group to ride after the TT around base, and had some takers.
The day before the race, the wife threw a monkey wrench into my riding plans, but said I could ride afterwards. Since it was cold and windy and looked like it would rain, of course I invited Chris for a short ride. I really just wanted someone to hide from the elements behind. We sorted out the details and met next to Lake Hood. I was figuring 60-90 minutes of easy riding to open up the legs, so we headed off. It was cold. It was windy. At least it wasn't raining. Then it did. It was more of a light drizzle, so we kept going. We dodged slushy snow and ice on the Coastal Trail, unclipping a foot just in case. We rode casually, linking up courses we usually ride at a more brisk pace. Other than cold toes, we lived. I can't speak for Chris, but I had fun. I mentioned to Chris that I hated to say it, but I was more looking forward to the group ride than the time trial. That's just where my head is these days.
Afterwards we went to Qdoba to gas up (literally) for the next day. It was then I got the message that the race was cancelled. I jinxed it. Permitting issues. Much profanity ensued, although that isn't unusual in any conversation I'm a part of. It had to be beyond frustrating for Chris, although he hid it reasonably well. His angry looks like my happy.
Our group ride was absorbed by Chain Reaction's last-minute "well, I have the time blocked out so we might as well ride" plan, organized by none other than James "Road is Dead" Stull. Will wonders never cease. While we fell short (by about 100) of the numbers signed up for the time trial, it was still a good-sized group- one of the larger ones I've seen up here. A quick out-and-back to the Eagle River Nature Center.
My original concept for the post TT group ride was something civil. Without a race to take the edge off of primed legs, it only took a few miles before people started to take some digs. On the long, gradual descent down to Eagle River the hammers went to the front, opening up gaps. Initially I chased when I found myself behind the split, but that just put me into no-man's land. I could have closed the gap to the front, but I was pretty sure that would have gassed me for the remainder of the ride and all of the hills on the return trip. So I settled in and lost ground. The back caught me at the bottom, then several guys rushed to catch up with the leaders.
I just didn't want to.
Just didn't have the desire to chase. My legs felt fine and I could hang in the draft, but I just didn't feel the need to ache. I sat up and rode moderately, arriving at the Nature Center a couple minutes after the leaders.
Thanks to my superior wrenching skills, Chris had all sorts of derailleur issues with the bike I loaned him, and was in the process of trying to un-fuck the front derailleur when the pack pulled out. Gapped out again, we ground our way back up the hills. At least we had a tailwind this time, instead of the brutal headwind we faced getting there. We re-grouped at a couple spots, but I knew the way and just let them go.
Not interested.
I'm not sure how I would have done if the TT happened. Maybe something would have clicked there. Maybe I would have dug deep and turned in a respectable (for me) performance. Then again, maybe I would have dug deep into my Suitcase of Quit™ and just sat up. Something is missing, and it isn't fat.
I need to ride more.
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