GP of Gloucester, day 2

Ah, day 2 of racing. My nemesis. I woke up, and felt like hell. My lungs hurt, I was coughing up lovely clear phlegm, and I was gasping for breath walking up the two flights of stairs to the hotel breakfast room. We decided that we had a while until I raced, so we went up to Rockport to be tourists and found some of the most amazing pastry I've ever eaten this side of the Atlantic. After some rock-hopping, it was back into race-mode. And then I found out that the course hadn't changed, at all. Only faster. My desire to race just went way, way, down.

I lined up in the back row again, and the start was similar to the first day, only less enthusiastic on my part. I hadn't even started racing yet and I already was thinking of how much it was going to hurt. I did the same thing as yesterday, moving up slowly, until I couldn't move up anymore. Make up spots on the run-up, lose them on the pavement, things were going alright for two laps. Third lap I kind of blew up, lost my group, started to wheeze, felt like hell, started sliding backwards faster than Lynne Bessette moves forwards through the men's B pack. This mostly happened on the pavement, as usual. Finally Kim Blodgett caught me, and I clung to her wheel like my beagles to the garbage they try and eat, until I felt a little more recovered.

By the time we got to the pits, I was feeling a little readier to punch it, and we caught back up to Linnea's group of herself, Hannah Kirshner, and Erin Duggan. I rode with them for the next couple laps, mostly just willing my legs to keep up on the pavement, and then in the sand on lap 5, I started riding sloppy and took myself out. It felt good to lie down, so I sat there in the track for a moment, causing Kim and Erin to dismount, and Linnea and Hannah to get away. Running out of the sandpit, my left thigh was kind of numb, I guess I whacked it pretty hard on my saddle. I got back on the bike, and it felt really funny. Oh, my saddle is twisted by 30 degrees. Good thing the pit is right there.

Got everything straightened out, lost another couple places, and tried to convince myself I could catch the girl in pink arm warmers. When I was just as far behind her after the run-up, my will to race sort of drifted away from me. My legs were sending clear messages that they were done, and since I had backed off, my brain was clear enough to hear and interpret these messages. After making sure that the next girl behind me was well behind me, I soft pedalled in and wallowed in my physical misery.

At least I had hot pants. For everyone who saw the silver knickers (or the blue hibiscus ones) on me, or the green shiny ones on Linnea, and you're jealous and want some for yourself, check out www.fiestawear.blogspot.com, Linnea is selling these spandex, although shes just starting out right now and theres not much on the blog. You could have your very own hot pants.

Pictures are coming.