I survived. That's good enough for now.

I have never been put into such pain on a bicycle in my life. One lap into the Old Cap crit, my lungs were seared. Two laps in, I was convinced I was going to throw up. Five laps in, my whole face went numb. And nine laps in, I got pulled.

That’s an average of about two hours of driving for each lap completed. Not quite what I expected.

Then again, nothing that weekend was what I expected. Originally, my plan was to borrow my aunt’s minivan for the weekend, do the road race and crit, and make it a nice leisurely drive home.

In the end, I couldn’t make it out for the road race because my aunt needed her car. I ended up taking my uncle’s car. It’s a Benz. An S500 AMG, to be precise. With over 400 horsepower. And it costs a hundred thousand dollars.

And he just gave me the keys and told me to be careful.

So I threw my bike in the back and hit the road at 7:30. Google Maps says the drive from Lincoln Park in Chicago to Erik’s house should be four and a half hours. I hopped in the car, got on the 88 Tollway, and set the cruise control at 90. I didn’t slow down until I got to the Quad Cities, and that was just for gas. I rolled up at 11, well before my predicted arrival time. It was awesome.

What was not awesome was the crit the next day. I was completely not prepared for the difficulty of the course or the fitness of the other riders. The intensity of that race from the gun was like a punch in the face. I just kept getting dropped by one guy after another. It wasn’t just physically painful, it fucked with my mind as well.

I was under the impression that the line up at the start was based on registration order. Apparently, Bryan and I were totally wrong here. Everyone lined up as they pleased. Bryan and I lined up in the second row on the right side. What we should have done was elbow our way over to the front row on the left side, because realistically, that race was over in 30 seconds. Once that front group got away, they stayed away. On the very first downhill bit, Kevin Murray from Team FIRE went down and I just about ran over his head. I was overly cautious going through that corner every time after that, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to repeat last summer and bust my arm early in the season. But my start wasn’t the problem.

I have a pretty good cold going on, and it definitely affected me more than I thought it would. My chest is all congested and I have a cough, so it was pretty hard to draw air after a few laps. But that wasn’t the problem either.

The problem is, I’m fat as hell, and totally out of shape. There are a few reasons for this. One, it’s been a really hard semester. A lot more work than I thought it would be, and less sleep than ever before. And secondofly, there are no hills in Chicago. Wind? Tons of it. Bring it on. Tough, cracked roads? I am now an expert. But hills? There are no hills in this state. You have to go to Wisconsin to find some of those, and they aren’t even very good.

Most importantly, though, I’m just pretty lazy. I don’t ride enough, and I don’t make enough time for it. I don’t get on the trainer because I hate it, but if I want to school Bryan like I could last year, I’ve got to get on it. In the 5s, I could do what I did last year and not even own a bike until April, then train for a while and win a bunch of races. I learned in this, my first 4s race, that this new category is a whole different animal. I’ve got to get my ass in gear. Otherwise Bryan will get too cocky.

He should be cocky, though, because he did a great job this weekend. Racing smart to a 5^th place (in the money!) finish in the RR, then hanging in the second group to 10^th in the 4s and 14^th overall in the combined race. I figure pretty much no one who reads this has not raced it, so you guys know how bitchingly hard that course is.

And my new friend Syd made the women’s race her bitch. It was ridiculous. She kept smiling. Smiling. For a point of reference here, I grimaced from the starting gun until I got pulled, my face a mask of agony. Then I almost threw up. Smiling. Jesus.

Many thanks to everyone who helped me survive this race, including Bryan’s friends Erik and Natalie, who let me sleep in their beautiful home, even though they didn’t even know me. And to Bryan, for making sure Kaos still had a strong showing in Iowa in spite of me. Also for finding me a place to stay, and for being a good sport when I browbeat him into signing up for the road race…and then when I didn’t show up. Thanks to Pav for making a sweet 3s race and completely dominating the aggressive rider category. And talking to me. I didn’t even know Pav liked me until Sunday.

And for all of you, for actually reading this godawful post. You deserve some sort of medal. Though I won’t be giving you one.