Yesterday I was still feeling pretty cracked from the race on Sunday. Granted, I didn't do a hundred miler on Saturday in addition to Michaux, but I was still sore.
When I got back on Sunday night, I was sitting down and my arm kept loosing blood flow. I was shaking and hitting it but my hand still wanted to shut down. So I gave up and went to sleep. The next day I was all tingly. Very strange.
Tomi got some pretty nice shots of the race.
There were tiny logs to shred:
Big rocks for people to nose dive off of:
I'm proud to say that I only went over the bars once, and it was slow and controlled. A very graceful crash.
And some bumpy trails:
After the race, there were some trinkets tossed in the air. I fought bitterly for a small red multi-tool. The man with the towel on his head did not.
As hard as that race was for me, I have a ton of respect for the people that were out there for four hours doing the 20 mile, or six hours doing the 40 mile.
I passed a few 20 mile guys before the last climb, and after I had bitched my way up the hill, ridden into the finish, eaten a burger, spilled orange soda on my pants, bitched about my sticky pants, and listened to Harlan talk about becoming a carpenter in his retirement, they were still out on the course. That would be such a tough day. Kudos to those folks for finishing.
And here's the weekly reminder to go vote for me in the Pisgah contest (The thing doesn't end until June, so I'm only going to bother you once a week. Vote so this blog doesn't become super whinny and bitter.)
This Saturday is the Wisp XC Race. It's only 45 minutes from Ohiopyle and JR usually puts on a pretty fun race, so I'm going to head down there.