Wow. Like, for real. It's been a long time since I've gotten in from a race day as stoked to be alive and crawling around my speck of the globe as today. Think absolutely perfect weather, my favorite people on earth, freshly paved closed roads and a thoroughly unprecedented good vibe surrounding the whole event. A CSD victory on top of all that pretty much overfilled our stoke tank!
Things kicked off after work on Saturday with Downtown's going away party. (Basic Training.) We hit Mac-10's crib hard and got our drank on. Alcohol is what dragsters burn, right? Maybe our tubular-draped bros of yesteryear were onto something... Our girl K-balls also dropped in from T-dot to see her fellahz and grlfrnds - planets don't align for such a heavy partyosphere like this more than a couple a' times per lifetime. I think there were as many empty jager bottles as Coronas - there were more bombs launched from that kitchen island than the USS Nimitz.
Post Mac-10's, we posted up at the ol' dirty-aka The Dome. Cheers was first sessioned, and more fuel was heaped onto an already roaring fire. Most kicked it upon the stroke of two, but CSD's finest simply saw them off with a bum-slap and promptly took root on the dance floor like a venus fly-trap growing out of a moldy ki. Oh yes, race prep was in full effect.
Getting to bed at 4:30 doesn't do much for the old MAP, but memory(ies) on the other hand? With our crew that shit's in the fine print. With 5 to 6 hours of sleep slathered on top of our club legs we sauntered into the armory and got our lovely bristol-board sized BNS numbers. Picture this: We're behind the chain-link parallel with the sidewalk, beside the armory. Most are on their rollers/trainers hammering like rabid hamsters. I'm shirtless, sitting on the curb fucking with my numbers. Lespy's car is pulled up, and it's blasting Girl Talk. People are walking by and staring at this display, while getting slapped in the face by Rick Ross mashed with Stevie Nicks. As the kids say: "yeeeee - das it".
On the line sat all of CSD, the PEI Canada Games team, choice players from NB and all the usual suspects from Nouvelle-Ecosse. Probably 30-40 strong; the pack won't be larger this season. The first move that stuck was a painful (for me) break of TT, Lorenzo, myself, Carson and McKewian. I cracked after 10 minutes of that brash warm-up, as did Carson. It was absorbed and some smaller moves took off. Our boy Geoff went out and hunted down a preme. The NS Canada Games team, headed by Geoff and Lespy, held shit fairly in check. That they did so in front of all the world to see is still warming my heart. Coming into the last few laps, Brian and Geoff were still off the front, and tension was high in the thick of the peloton. The chase was on but Geoff attacked an unresponsive Brian to stay out for the win. BAM.
Brian held off the charging field for 2nd, with TT winning the field sprint for 3rd. Not bad for a 41 year old piece of hungover meat. ;)
After the awards we hit the course again to take in more of the sunshine and awesome vibe of the "street party". HRM Bike Week? Mardi Gras? Yeah, pretty much. After the kids race (which was awesome, especially TT motivating his progeny with engine noises :) came the fixxie race where TEAM DYNAMAX crushed all comers with their mad strength and skill honed on the banks of the London velodrome to the Prospect Rd. DeeRal took 2nd thanks to our polite cheering from corner 4.
With the fixxie fix sewn up we headed to Dairy Queen to people watch and soak up more sun. I told D-Ral that a cone was the only option befitting of a man who enjoys the purity of a clutch-less, lugged cycle. The crew concurred.
What could serve as a finale to such a fulfilling day? I suggested we get our floraphilia taken care of, and mainline some singletrack. We met at Spider for 7 to cram as much living as possible in this 24h chunk of our lives; breathing deep in the damp air of the slightly moist forest, one now bursting with a green seemingly unseen since our days of poaching the Appalachian Trail. Ashley rode Skull Trail for her first time, and Da Ral hitched onto the pain-train.
That's what I'm talkin' about - step up, or step off.
Life is for living, crew. Even Rihanna says so!
Chops is getting some sleep. Pics to come.
bike season
14 years ago

