The day I should've dropped myself

The weekend started out normal enough. I again had the worst TT of my life. Again. And that's pretty tough to do. I'm setting the bar pretty high each and every time I throw a leg over my TT bike. Minus the multiple crashes and add in a little driving rain, my performance was very '05 Rasmussenesque. Pretty much just a meltdown from the beginning. And it cost me a 12 pack to the Mainstay on top of it all. I was fully prepared to DNF about 200 meters in, and probably would've if I didn't end up catching another rider (that I will not name) to chat with out on the course. I eventually got too wet and cold to talk anymore and picked up the pace for no other reason than to get back to the car. Somewhere between that decision and the car, I crossed the finish line for a stellar 40 something out of 50 something finish. What the guys that finished behind me were doing out there, I have no idea. I can only surmise that there were multiple mechanicals, maybe a few crashes, and likely a missed turn or two.

Then came the road race. My legs came around a little bit. Just enough to be a menace. Normally, the only thing I can do is climb. Not today. I made it over the KOM the first time with the front group fairly easily. The second time over, the wheels pretty much came off, and I ended up in a chase group of about 10. This is where the real amateurity begins. Half the field had been dropped at this point, and my only teammate left in the race was the Imposter...who had made the selection. So being the good teammate that I am, I put in a huge effort to help drive this group across the gap and back to the front of the race. For some reason, the Imposter was happy to see me when I got there. Maybe he didn't know the only thing I had to offer at that point was a handful of guys that would kick his ass in the field sprint. I'm an awesome teammate.

Sunday was the crit. I can always tailgun with the best of 'em, but this day I took it to a whole new level. It was pretty much a clinic. An art form. Of the 60 laps, I would estimate that I rode 59.8 of those on the back. Not towards the back, but absolute fucking caboose. Proud of my Lanterne status on the day, I intended to finish the thing off proper...in last place. Unfortunately at the finish, Captain Skymall got the best of me and reverse pipped me at the line. He made a quick deceleration and rolled in right behind me. Not cool, Skymall. Don't think I won't get you back for that. Come to the back in Chattanooga this weekend. I dare you.