Pre-race party

Only the Cap'n would take time to blog from a party.  And using the hosts' computer at that.

So here I am, at a party with about 100 other people, some of which I know, others I've never met, still others I'd like to take home with me.  Ok, really all I want is to take home some of the delicious tomato and mozzarella salad except, well...I ate it all. 

So my first race is on Sunday and this here big-ass get together is not doing much for my confidence.  I talked to John Haley and he finished 4th in the 45-open category today in C-Springs.  Excellent result, Skillet!  And then I learn that Big Country got put into the wall by a guy with the handling skills of a cat-4 roadie.  That sucks.  Makes me wonder what is going to happen in the Sunday race in Golden when there's about 90 people lined up in that category.

Good thing is, of those 90, there will be at least 3 Frites guys:  myself, Rich, and Buzzsaw.  Buzzsaw is here tonite looking suave and ready to race.  Sporting a shirt with buttons (what the fuck is that??).  C'mon Buzz...this is a t-shirt or team-jersey affair!

There's a band playing.  They are not bad.  Good singers, well rehearsed.  But they started their set with The Eagles and just like the Big Lebowski, I hate the fuckin' Eagles!  Would it kill them to play some Rage Against the Machine?  Now they're playing Van Morrison.  How about some Van Halen? 

And finally...there's me.  Looking for solace and peace away from the din and tumolt from downstairs.  After having been innundated by smoke from Rich's flame-broiled, grilling extravaganza (he's part arsonist, you know), I had to find some fresh air.  And after finding the fresh air, it turns out I was in the neighbor's yard.  Go figure.  Now I'm in front of a computer.  Some things never change.

So here I sit, playing with my kid and the other kids that are here.  Funny how that seems to happen.  I find myself gravitating to the ones I understand the most.

Tomorrow is race day.  I'm going to take all this angst and frustration and apply it to the pedals.  That doesn't mean I'll do well, just that during those 45 minutes, I'll be free.  And that is why I race.  The feeling of effort (not pain), the constant thinking and calculation of what's coming next and the course of action to take.  And all the while, losing all time for 45 minutes in such a way that after the race, I don't have any real idea what happened out there on the course.

God, its gonna be nice to race again.  As long as the playlist doesn't include any Eagles tunes.