blur.

so, Ben and I are sitting here waiting for the laundry from Vegas to be done, so that we can pack for Madison tomorrow. Trying to sober up from the experience with a nice cold can of Hamm's Special Light. Combing the internet for scraps of Cross Vegas to try to remember things that just few by...

Prep for racing at 9pm ain't easy. All I wanted to do all day was play, but we had to get Ben off his feet, eating right, focused. After a morning at Interbike we were laying in bed watching bad TV, eating a disastrously bad dinner at the Exaclibur cafe, source of the predictable PRO pancakes. I double checked and we had till 7pm to pick up his registration. It was 5:45. We needed to move.

I should mention that, since I was working, Ben packed his own bikes for shipping. So, rebuilding them, some things were slightly off. I got a yelling-at for having the headset spacers in the wrong place- something I fixed on both bikes while waiting for the valet to bring us the Rental Minivan Of Doom- but I know now that I'll keep notes on this stuff, just in case.

Traffic being what it is, we got to the race venue at 6:56. Ben sprinted out of the car for his number, not a good start. I parked, pulled the bikes, did final checks, and brought the gear around. Ben jumped out for a practice lap or two before the ladies, and it was game on. Moving gear, mixing bottles, checking tire pressures, reminders for stretching and warmups. After the women finished, moving the bike and gear into the pit and settling in. Said hello to some fellow wrenches from the USAC clinic last winter, one of whom enticed Ben to do a wheelie during warmups that landed him on his ass. Lance rolled into the pit and the wrenches took turns sort of standing behind him so they could be in a photo with him, goofy guys that they are. We stood aside making fun of his bike - probably taken from the stock of a local bike shop, a plain old Trek XO with Bontrager everything and clinchers. (edit: maybe that was his B? I'm seeing shots of him on a bike with sewups and a DA build... hmm.)

A note about tires, though, if you'll indulge me. I looked at JP's B bike and asked Frankie if they had run out of proper cross tires or something. "No, Jonny's running filetread today." I hadn't seen that before, they looked like road tires. But they worked for JP on that dry, grassy course. Food for thought.

The crowds were a totally new experience, and it was so hard to move from the start to the pit that I couldn't be up there with a bottle as usual. It was rad that we could hear the announcer clearly, and when they were off, it was that heartstopping moment of counting riders coming into view. 1, 5, 10, 20... 28 and there was Ben, in a field of nearly 100! I was so freaking excited, but it almost made me more nervous. Can it stick?

He rode two laps or so in a chase group with Lance, which was rad. Then he started slipping back a little. One too many of those moments of counting up riders looking for him, only for the number to pass and me to panic. I had no idea what he was up to, but the numbers kept creeping up. I kept shouting and hoping. The other wrenches in the pit, some of whom made comments about his great start, raised eyebrows. We totally didn't see what was up.

I'll let Ben tell it to ya, but he knew he was out of the points/money, so he decided to have fun with it. He wasn't losing places because he was slower- it was because he wasn't racing for fast but for fun. I sorta wish he had told me that, but I should have figured out from the kisses he was blowing me as he rode past the pit. It's part of why I love him - fun first! - but I wasn't thinking that way and was crestfallen as I saw 30, 33, 35, 38 roll by and where's Ben?

Two to go and I was crossing the pit in the opposite direction of JP's and Kona's wrenches. I warned Ben that he was about to get lapped, but he'd later tell me that he expected it way sooner and was ready. I stood out there after the announcer called the finish, half expecting that Ben made it through before they passed. He didn't come by again... until he had a beer with him and was ready to tell some stories. Immediately he started yammering on about high fives and fun times and awesome crowds and it all made sense. It was that 12 year old superfun "I love my bike!" that keeps him going. He was making it fun for him and for the crowd and really enjoying the show. From where I stood, it was all business, all the time. From where he stood, it was fun fun fun.

I love cyclocross. And I've never even done a race.