Toaster Week Toasted Me

Holy Cannoli, I just had one of the worst races of my life.

Today, I almost finished Shabobele, which is the first race of the year on one of the most brutal courses of the year. The winner of Schabobele gets an engraved Toaster. That's because there's a huge-azz hill on it which is about a mile long. It earned itself the nickname: "The Toaster", ostensibly because it...toasts you.

Wednesday night, I went down to Cincinnati to see my favorite ska band, which are called The Toasters.

Coincidence?

Yes.

And unrelated to this story. But, I had to throw it in there because of the whole "Toaster" theme.
No, actually, maybe related because I drank too many beers Wednesday and so bod didn't take to riding very well at the end of this week.

* Oops, I digress, back to the race stuff *

I chose the category 1/2/3 race instead of the category 3/4 race because I am doing a week long stage race in June called the Tour Of Ohio and I must get used to the competition of riding with the cat 1 pros.

And, I'm dumb.

We rolled out today and people were feeling racey. I was already feeling moderately toasted so I hung at the back. Up "The Toaster" the pack exploded and I grabbed whatever wheel I could hold on to. Then, it started raining, hard. I'm now all covered with road grime and wet and my legs are screaming "Poopie!". Not fun. But I can handle not fun. Because, life's mostly, not fun.

So, I'm sitting like 15th or so and I notice John Murdock had flatted. As I rode by, I threw him my pump and a spare tube. I thought that was really nice of me, until I flatted 7 miles later and had nothing to fix it with.

Duh.

I rode my flat tire slowly for about 2 miles to my car. I quick got in my car and threw on a spare wheel I brought. My teammate Kyle had also flatted and was fixing his. He said he'd catch me. So, I rode on spunkily trying to salvage somewhat of a finish.

About 20 miles later, I flatted again. Rear wheel this time. I rode another couple of miles until one of the race volunteers was nice enough to pick me up. This made me mad as poop and my day was over.

The road down there was treated with cinders. As it turns out, half of the field flatted, lots dropped out. My teammate Kyle? He flatted again and also dropped out.

Two years ago, I bonked and didn't finish Schabobele. Last year it was 22 degrees and I chickened out. This year I flatted twice and quit.

I'm not sure if it's racing in February, or if it's Schabobele. One of them blows. Maybe both.

Maybe I should have just stayed home...

...and stuck a butterknife in a toaster.

Sheesh!