A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte

The Missouri State Mountain Bike Championships dodged rainstorm, muckraking, and attendees to become one fine sauna soiree. Upon arrival, expert sleuthing discovered that 1. There were only 3 blokes signed up thus far for my class 2. Reason being is that the race didn't start for 1.5 hours. Nutter Butters.

After afforded ample ambling, stretching, & warm-up, I pulled to the line (denoted by the white mailbox adjacent the last shanty on the right) positioning myself at the helm of the Sport-ship Enterprise. Rocking the big ring /"St. Louis"/ "Pro-Dave" start, I led the field into the woods and remained at the front throughout the majority of the flats.

If this were a choose your own adventure book, you would be rockin' the read with all good choices. However, the remainder of the day from this point involves multiple bad endings, with some re-reads.

Prior to entering the tunnel of no-love, I slipped my chain off the big ring twice, embracing ground on both occasions, whilst giving up positions. Being off the chain is not as dope as homeboys make it out to be. Collecting myself and trying to recapture the lead, I redlined on the ensuing first climb, unable to catch my breath in the hottub-esque air. Thankfully, my training on Blue Ribbon (not the beer sadly) paid off as I descended like Stalone in Cliffhanger. In some cruel joke, the open trench of a trail connecting the two hills garnered the hottest stagnant air on course. Air quality coupled with un-buff terrain in the valley had me completely out of gas upon reaching the second climb. Like a bad YTMND, I rode half of Hill #2, spun out, shouted, and hiked; three laps in a row. Coming down the mountain, the air was good and the stumpy enjoyed a bit more big ring haulin'.

All three laps were fairly uneventful. Heat, exploding chest, anger, dissatisfaction. I came across the line in just over 1:30. High-fiving chaps as they rolled in, I realized that more folks were behind me than I calculated. Inquiring with the officials, I found out I won the golden ticket and would be taking home the WWF belt. Instant pregnant woman style mood change (elated and wanting nachos NOW!).

I snagged a sweet blingy necklace, a yellow jersey, and some Chipotle nachos. Despite the officiated accolade, I don't feel super stellar about my performance. Having not ridden the big climb and having blown up every lap, I worry about next weekend with the 4,500 ft of climbing at 9,000 ft above sea level. Like DrewB says, "I'm livin' the lie." But, I have to say that the temporary ignorance is bliss.

Most importantly, my mates Bunn, Nate, and Natty spent 6 hours in the woods today cheering me on and snapping these stellar shots. I really appreciate my friends and hope that I can return the favor to them some day. Thanks guys!