RRV: 2, Cap'n Slow: 0

I wasn't all that motivated to race this weekend.  With nearly everyone on the Frites team being out of town getting married or still nursing a triptophan induced narco-sleepy, I didn't feel all that inclined to get my stuff together, drive to the venues, and race until I almost hurl.  Its the rest of the team that makes all the race so enjoyable.  What can I say.  I'm a pack animal.  No, not an alpaca or mule.  Pack as in pack mentality, coyotes, wolves, dogs, geese.  Those kind.  So Saturday, I had much fun brewing some beer.  And I decided after getting an SMS from Rich that I should race on Sunday.  Not that I wanted to.

Today was one of those days at RRV (Rich's Retirement Venue) where it just didn't feel right.  I woke up, did my morning race day ritual, but still didn't feel that excitement happening inside.  But instead of staying home staring at the airlock on the carboy, I packed my stuff in the car and headed toward Golden and the site of one of my worst races ever.  At least the temperature was tolerable this time.  Halfway there, I remembered I forgot to go to the bank.  So I drove around Golden looking for a Chase bank.  I was unable to find a Chase bank but did find every other possible bank including Frodo's Bank of Middle Earth and First Bank of Neptune.  So I stopped at a "foreign" ATM, payed the extra $3.00 and withdrew some money to pay for the race.

On the way from the bank to the race site my brother called.  I still had plenty of time to warm up so we talked for a while.  Ooops, too long.  Now I'm running a bit short on warm up time and the course is all crowded up with the men's 35 open class.  They're all "Get out of the way!"  and "On your left!" and "Stop flinging beer on me!".  So, I rode over to the registration area, paid my race fee, and discovered that after all the mud from the last race and the subsequent cleaning required, my shifting was off by a little.  No big deal, I travel with a wide variety of tools.  Tweak, tweak...all better and the race is starting in 10 minutes.  Still not warmed up.  I tried some sprints in the parking lot and then the staging began for the crush of humanity known as the men's 35+4.

We took off and I quickly discovered how not warmed up I was.  I was able to make the first hill and the left hand turn (different from the last RRV race) and then the pile up began.  I got off the bike, ran around a bunch of slobs who seemed content to lay in the dirt, and continued on.  Across the grassy, bumpy, parts, and down into the valley toward the tree and a big left hander.  I'm about 3 minutes into the race.

POP!

That was my chain.  Gone.  Done.  3 minutes of racing for $28 dollars and now I need a new 10 speed chain and if you haven't seen the price on those things lately you'll be surprised to know just how NOT cheap they are.  I flung my bike into the grass only to be told by a soccer mom with a big fat ass "Now be nice.  Settle down".  I would have ridden over her foot except, well, the broken chain thing.

I was pissed but not to the point that I feet like going home.  Instead, I had to almost force myself into a foaming rant and when I thought of foam, I immediately went to the freshly opened beer keg and had three.  That took the edge off.

RRV has beaten me again.  The first race, I finished next to last and this one I didn't finish at all. I spent 25 dollars to race + 3 dollars ATM charge at 1st Bank of Neptune + about 55 dollars for a new chain.  That comes to about 83 dollars for 3 minutes of racing.  Or, if you like, $1660 per hour.