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Dean and I did the 35+ race (Dean also raced the 45+ and took fourth! He can tell that story and few others) in the early afternoon. the race started slow but built up speed after 10 minutes, or so... I saw a 3 man break go up the road with a couple of strong dudes in it that I knew. I punched out of the group to bridge the gap, but maybe my punch wasn't so "punchy," as about a dozen other chuckies went with me. I did the lion's share of the chase and even sprinted the last meters thinking that as soon as I (we) caught them that I could rest. Dumb. As soon as we caught the three escapees, someone countered the move and ~8 guys went up the road singing, "ha-ha ha-ha hahhhhhh," as I watched helplessly with lactate engorged vacuoles that were once considered quadriceps. That was it. That was the race. Game over. They stuck it and I was the chump sucker with mud on my face.
Following the 35+ race, with no more time in between races to change my numbers, I was in the p/1/2 race. Bang! race on! it started fast and very early in the race, a break went off the front while the speed was still very high. Where was I? I was sucking my thumb in the back third of the race. ...and yes, that was it. That was the race. Game over. They stuck it and I was the chump sucker with mud on my face, dehydrated
submitted by Tom Skiles
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