Singlespeed-a-Retirement

Well citizens of the NECS Nation, your favorite narrator and teller of tales far beyond anything one could possibly believe, has wrapped up yet another weekend of non racing and am back in the office nursing the aches and pains that go with it.
My original plans, hatched back at the end of 2011, called for my deployment this weekend to the Ozark trail system and the third annual battle at Middle Fork where maximum wrist snapping was to occur. Well the regulations out of Washington finally caught up to me and I found myself getting ready to queue up at the unemployment line with pink slip in hand. Then, as luck and good karma would have it I landed a new job but too close to the Battle at Middlefork to take the extra day. It was fate that Singlespeed-a-Palooza (aka Mudfest-a-Palooza) was on the same weekend so I was spared the burden of never ending honey do's and instead would be able to do manly things like piss in the woods, drink Del Maguay at 9:00 in the morning and have left over egg rolls and pot stickers for breakfast - it was truly going to be a MAN weekend.
With the Mrs soaking up the sun in the Bahamas, I was upstate with a bottomless supply of wine and untranslated scriptures to read. And my good friends I can tell you it didn't take long for the fun and games to begin after rolling in from a nice 50 mile road ride. Settling into my Archie Bunker chair, gently caressing my second bottle of wine, I did a sobriety check as a ground hog came a wandering down my deck. Well I can confirm I was definitely not sober (after all I prefer to drink in the afternoon and it was after 6pm) but I did have all my wits about me and immediately rushed to the basement for the compound bow and a bit of Ted Nugent type activities . Hell who lets a bit of alcohol get in the way of some varmint hunting - not me I was thinking as I stumbled out the front door with arrow ready to rip. That 80lb draw on the bow proved to be quite a handful but with bow fully cocked I stood waiting for that sucker to appear around the side of the house and when he did I closed one eye (to stop the double vision), lined him up in the sights and let it rip - ah shit I missed (what a surprise). Picking up the quiver I went around the side and found him curled up under the deck and easy pickin's. Firing away with the vengeance of Rambo in Vietnam

the arrows were bouncing off the walls and dirt, I didn't think I got one in there (although I did get al direct hit on the side of the deck). Out of arrows I gave up and headed back in for more vino and shortly after the quiet bliss of the bed where I would recover from my hunting expedition in time for SSAP. Good thing I didn't break out the chainsaw and do something as dumb as this.

Race day dawned with temps hovering just above the freezing mark but promises of warmer temps and for the first time sunny skies. Guess a combination of the Mayor's birthday, Hawaiian Mike making a race and Monte not being there made everyone, including the weather, put on the happy face.

At this time we (NECS/MRC) can reveal that design delays of the new MRC kit meant we were unable to showcase these fantastic duds for the hundreds of rabid fans at the race. Instead I opted to race in the MRC version of a post race "sweatsuit" - Brioni worsted wool suit with pinpoint white cotton button down and accented with an Hermes tie (the Ralph Lauren crocodile loafers didn't make the race since there were no flat pedals in the bin of spare parts) and in honor of my brothers involved at the battle of Middlefork Team Seagal kit underneath.

What did make it to the starting line was the new NECS/MRC "attitude bracelet", our answer to all of those yellow wrist bands of yesteryear. To get one of these choice babies you need to either host a Saturday MRC group ride or have a Superior Attitude and Superior State of Mind (just ask Infantile Tom Rossi what it takes or Team Seagal, which will be receiving theirs' at Burnin' at the Bluff this fall). What also made it to the starting line in shocking disbelief to all was none other then ex-rider now head of the the Honey Do Club, Hawaiian Mike Davidson (aka Loose Boots & Mikesquatch).
Knowing he is the consummate nature boy I made it a point to walk Mike up the first pitch of Wishing Well trail and point out the rare Blueberry Kush plant that was in our midst. The hefty amounts of pollen being produced by this rare horticultural gem left Mike in a coughing fit and no longer of sound mind, but he was smiling that the breed was making a come back in Stewart. And has become a usual at SSAP the flask of Del Maguay was on the bike and Sal Muttonchops, straight in from another Jamis sponsored trip to the Orient, was packing his own flask of the DM - a true convert and strong candidate for the new attitude bracelet because that is the kind of attitude the NECS/MRC idolize!

Oh yeah in all of this excitement I almost forgot there was a race going on. As the Mayor went through the prerace blah, blah, blah (that none of us ever listen to) the entire field suddenly had a kumbaya moment, joined hands while Justin Bieber and Usher hopped out of the Port-o-John and sang this Happy Birthday diddy to the Mayor (who turned a whipper snapping 59!).

The start included a 2 mi run up Ridge Road (dirt) to sort out the field before heading into the woods on Scofield for 2 miles of single track back to the start/finish area. Strategically placed at the top of the climb on Ridge, and right as you turned into the woods, was the beer tent and of course yours truly is never one to pass up the suds after a 2 mile dust bowl ride. As I sipped the beer Mexico's finest made the rounds with the station staff as the next group of riders came blowing through. Settled in with the back markers I began to make my way up the field giving more then a few people a surprise when they were passed by a suit! All that work was for nothing as I rolled through the start/finish area and immediately gave back all those places and more while Infantile Tom, The Mayor, Mikesquatch and I shared the Del Maguay. The first lap was an uneventful but fun ride around Stewart and I surprised more then a few rest stops with the outfit. Finally back on the other end of Ridge Road it was a climb to Scofield from the other direction which meant another stop at my favorite watering hole before plunging into the singletrack and back to the start/finish. There I was greeted by Sal Muttonchops and Top Chef, both calling it a day after 1 lap. As I rode by the catcalls went out and I was quickly shamed into a stop for shots from both Sal's and C-Dubb's flasks before electing (a bad choice) to go out for a second lap. About 4 miles in the rear end suddenly got real squishy and I realized I had a flat. Now this normally won't present a problem but the Brioni is only cut to hold a Walther PPK and not a spare 29er tube so I was shit out of luck on this one. One Co2 filled that sucker solid, for all of about 30 seconds and then it was flat again. Thus began the long hike out of the woods to the dirt road back home. Riding in, with my head bowed, I had to take only my second DNF in 10 years of racing but what the hell I was tired, sore beat up and in need of a beer and had to check on the condition of the Blueberry Kush plant (which was unharmed). Mulling around post race having a few beers we got these candid's -

Truly the Road Warrior

Three Beer Rossi hitting his limit

As for this blog post title, well I am pretty well healed from the hip surgery but I no longer can push it to the degree I used to. Nor do I want to make the effort just to finish in 10th, 12th maybe even 15th in age group so it is time to politely bow out of the racing scene (i.e. I have officially retired from competitive racing). Now it is on to more MRC non races and coming up is the NECS Grand Fondo on 7/7 (100mi) followed the next weekend by one of the two Obamador sponsored MRC rides The Big Indian Scalping on 7/14 (135mi). Party on, it's been fun and I have no regrets!