dear jeremy Div. One,
i sort of heard back from you recently, but the communique was lost in the ether.
i returned from westernest Connecticut. out by Candlewood Lake: man made and the largest lake in all of CT.
cary fridrich and i traversed the states fridaynight before and poshed it up at the local Seniors community Hotel.
i fell into the dough palm of bedding and dreamed that we were stealing cars and breaking/entering onto technical college campus.
we got access to a hanger bay where students were restoring downed german warplanes. this university had their flying treasures hanging from
the ceiling and they were preparing them for some serious faux Strafing action.
i road the company car in the Housatonic Hills Roader. Seeing as how we had all been riding up in Litchfield CT, recently, it is appropriate to tell you about this one.
the race was on fathers day on the grounds of a school where they implant chips into mentally challenged folk so they can read in the dark.
two laps of 27 miles of constant climb and descend located just south of our journeys last weekend.
kick off 0910, low 70's and partly cloudy. the start was neutral up one of the steepest climbs of the day. (brilliant, really)
when the pace car broke off, so began the massive attrition.
the starting group of 90 remained together for the first lap. the course had several major climbs which whittled the field down; doods jamming chains in over/under gearing
and falling to the road like zapped flies.
Fridrich and O'Hara had positioned themselves throughout the field, but Ryan was in the heat of the mix for most of this messed up battle, round one.
i and the Bilenky stayed in the rear weeds of the group for the first lap, getting a feel for the course and maintaining. shit man, you know i cant descend!
a few miles before the finish was KOM; 40 mph descent to sharp left uphill turn. no clue how to negotiate this one. this climb tore the peloton to shreads.
mostly downhill for the last few miles before returning to the school and the nasty climb of the opener.
(i am the weirdo riding behind riders who are grabbing feeds and jamming chains on the right side.) but it was fun because there were puppies and families rallying and chanting.
what emerges from this carnage is maybe 55 doods. Fridrich, O'Hara, and i are seeing stars, gritting teeth and maintaining with the final selection.
the 2nd lap is like the first, but the death toll after the climbs is worse. i fell off the main group many times, working with Fridrich and O'Hara
to fight back in it. some 45 riders go into KOM climb with awesome speed. i still could not tell you how to negotiate this one. i just faked it and managed to crawl through a few busted hearts.
but the final final group got up and over about 45 seconds faster. so for the last few ferocious miles i flew solo, just within eye shot of the main group which was roaring toward the finish line.
the will of those riders was solid, for i caught not a one of them. it was a glorious burying of the soul, train in vain, and Fight or Flight. i finished 52 seconds down from main group, 2hours and 44 minutes
of racing, and a finish amidst foreboding Institutionalized Brick work du jour.
Fridrich and O'Hara finished not long after. they too had meant business, and fought with honor. those two also raced the day before. that shits cool.
so Volvo FlagShyyp! egresses, by the reputed site of the Flag Swamp where students dial in their night vision, and through the hills of westernest Connecticut.
you'd have liked this one Jogg. real soft country suffering.
we could be at a Disco on the Gaza Strip, getting shelled realtime.