Ouch

New saddle (even when it is the same model) just before a 90+ mile hilly road race with the big boys = sore rear.

Of course, the soreness below the rear, and stiffness in shoulders and neck now that I think about it, all have to do with my fat head. Race, and race hard, regardless of the fact that ya ain't on the old training program. But really, that should not be a problem. My legs should do it on memory, right? 15 year old memory. Plus, it was team orders that made me do it (although I really ain't part of the "elite team"). They said to make sure that a berry was always up the road. So, when a couple went chasing a berry up the road, I looked around, and since I was up front, I figured it was my turn to go.

So there I was, on the second 19 mile lap of a long ass race, off the front, trying to draft off of two f'n small cyclists. I gave it a college try, but my legs were not digging it. On the 3rd lap, though, the calvary came charging. About 9, with four berry boys. Damn, this looks good. I worked with them for much of the that lap, but when we hit the bears, I knew that I could not hang. Legs already sore, and keister as well. If I had packed a 4mm allen key, I would have stopped and lowered my saddle, but instead I figured that I would just coast back to the pack, and do one more lap with them. I even drifted off the back on the finishing climb, but when I went over the top, the group was not that far up the road, and one more lap turned into, why don't I just finish (myself off that is). There were a bunch of motorcycles and a couple of cars in between me and the pack, so I chased like an idiot through the vehicles on the descent, caught back on and I spanked myself and kept going for the fifth and final lap. I even put in a little dig on a kicker coming of San Pablo Damn road. Damn it, Nick, yer not 23 anymore.

Well, I shut down on the final climbs, and coasted in. Finished, and finished off. But hey, it was fun to know that I could still mix it up.

And today, round and round in Salinas. Dirk decided to slum it with the geezers, and there was another guy in a berry jersey that we did not know, but rode pretty well. Thankfully the course was fairly smooth, cuz my keister was sore. I lowered the saddle before the race, but that could not heal the sore that formed yesterday, and I felt it for sure.

Anyway, I put in a bit of an effort early, and my legs laughed at me and spit lactic acid into the veins. Yet, a couple laps later, I gave it another dig. Next thing I knew, I was off the front suffering with two others while Olaf was whispering sweet nothings in my ear over the loud speaker (BTW, a little softer on the th of my last name there, Olaf). Yet, I was running on about 90%, due to the silly ass effort from the day before, so it was inevitable that we got caught, which took about 5 or 6laps. A few laps later, though, Dirk was up the road. Thought about trying to get up there, but the thought did not last long, and I kept to myself in the pack. And, while in the pack, I was reacquainted with a smell I had not smelled in a long time, Chris Walker. Oh my, BO big time (apparently it was J. Boyer, not C. Walker, so sorry Chris). And, the boy was a bit scary too. I tried to get away from him, but he followed me and got in front of me wherever I went.

Two laps to go, I made an effort, and even caused a bit of a split. But due to some miscommunication with the other berry boy, I did not bury myself to try to make it stick. So, C. Black came motoring by on the backside, with his boy in tow, and I realized that I am not a sprinter. I finished, and I am again finished off.

Quick journey home, and one happy, tail wagging, paw tapping dog waiting to see me. A load of exams to grade, and an 8-8 day tomorrow as well. Ouch.