Plymouth

It started in the warmup as I realized I haven’t deeply inhaled any 40 deg (and very dry) air since last winter. My nose was leaking liquid, and I was feeling so-so about the course. There was one particular section by the start finish that had me less than enthusiastic. It consisted of a sharp left then right into 20 feet of sand, then 30 feet of grass, then double barriers widely spaced, then 30 more feet of grass, and then 20 more feet of sand.

The whole set was so long that on my first warm up lap my heart rate climbed dangerously high as I was running the length of it. On the next warm up lap, I decided to try to ride the sand and found out this wass super-loose-wheel-sucking type of sand. After picking myself up and dusting off the bike I decided I’d just be running it, no biggie right?

Well I got a good place on the line-up. After the whistle, I realized that I couldn’t shift my right shifter. Immediately I realized I had filled it with sand on that practice lap. What now? Spin like crazy. I kept myself midpack in a 36-21 gear, then grabbed a teammates bike at the pit. This bike was far from set up for me, so on the next lap I yelled for my teammates to get me something with a proper saddle height for the next lap.

So now I have a reasonable bike, but I’m close to last place. Time to unleash the fury and move back up, right? Well, I have asthma and apparently it wanted to unleash it’s fury on me instead. Usually I ride with my inhaler in my pocket in case such an attack occurs. Of course our new skinsuits are sans pockets, so I had to ride off the course to the car and grab my inhaler. A minute later I snuck back on the course from where I left in an attempt to just finish.