Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Spittle and Rum.

I spent about 15 minutes in a break away this evening in the local crit. When we finally got caught, i still felt good, and tried to set myself up for the win. With half a lap to go, i boxed myself in, and thus fucked up the sprint.

I don't really mind losing cos of something stupid i did, and having the fitness to sit in a breakaway for a while was good for confidence. Overall, it was a nice evening, followed by burritos, which is ok by me.

The team work required for a breakaway is strange. There were three of us. Steve i knew, and some guy bloke i didn't. Steve had gone off by himself originally. He was sitting out there for a bit, all by himself, until i decided to cross over to him, with old mate following me. We saw that we had a gap of a few seconds at the top of the hill. Young bloke just looked at us and just asked: "We going?" "Yeh, let's hit it!" I said. So we did. We worked together for as long as we could, on the rivet, sucking in as much air as we could. When we got caught, seeing the pain on the chasers group's faces felt really fucking good.

There's something primal about knowing you caused another person considerable pain. It's considered a bad thing in today's society, generally speaking. When you can do it legitimately, it's fun to explore the emotion.

Man, who would have thought bike racing could be so subtle and complex.



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