|Tram Bar Gun Show|
I had my best run ever down Rock Garden. Digging deep and pushing hard distracted me from the harshness and the leg burn. Somewhere up there I fell completely under the sway of the Fuel, front derailleur and all. Sure, it climbs like a sullen camel and chatters like a sorority girl on Adderol, but it devours bumps and sings on switchbacks. Those chubby tires made me feel fast and confident.
|Exhibiting good-ish form for the first time in my life|
|I was smiling this hard the whole time|
I checked on friends' results. Two of my kids from the team placed high in the junior categories, Gene got fifth in a stacked field, and Derrick smashed his way down the mountain and won the pro race off the couch.
I ended the day riding a party wave downhill with a bunch of boys, sprinting to keep up with them, cornering recklessly, blinded by dust, whooping and beaming. We finished in a train in view of the awards ceremony, just as Derrick was accepting his medal. We made a huge ruckus, to the amusement of the spectators.
|Hanging with Team Junkshow and Sick Nick|