Pouring out a little liquor for my pride: Results from the Bunny Hop Criterium

Look at me, I'm out in front leading the pack. Oh wait...no, that's just me getting lapped!

This weekend I made my 2010 racing season debut. To say that it was more than a bit disappointing would be a gross understatement. About the only thing that went well for me Sunday morning was that I was able to find the race without getting lost. The Bunny Hop criterium course is a 1km lap, a wide open 3 corner crit with a slight uphill. Sounded easy enough. But after my previous debacle at the Haines Point group ride I knew I was in trouble. I knew the group would come out hard and like a boxer I'd have to take one on the chin, gather my senses, and then hang in for the later rounds. Well....call me Glass Joe because when I took that first punch I was seeing stars. Each lap went like this for me. I'd be right in the thick of things as we raced along the flat and downhill sections, but as soon as we'd come out of a corner and have to climb...I'd start falling back. Fast.  I'd then spend the next 3/4 of the lap working my way back to where I had been before the turn, only to have it happen to me again. I repeated this cycle for about 5 laps before I could no longer hang on. After that, the race was a full on embarrassment for me. When you're on a 1km lap course there is no place to hide. I had to drag my sorry excuse for a cyclist in front of the spectators at least 15 times.

I certainly had no delusions of winning the event, but I sure wasn't expecting to be fighting to stay out of the bottom. Looks like I'm going to have to rethink my training regime. 35 mile ride, followed by a face full of nachos and margaritas just isn't cutting it. I have no excuses. I simply was neither fit nor strong. The only solace I can take from this rousing defeat is that I can do no worse. I've set a new all-time personal low.

When I dragged my sweaty mess of a self into the car to leave, my girl promptly noted "You stink."  I never bothered to ask her if she was referring to my foul aroma or my racing skills. Either way, she was right.

At this point I still had a shot

Hiding my face in shame as I ride with another dropped competitor

The look of defeat. At least my kit looks good.