It's all over but the Nationals

And so the local cyclocross season ended with me beating Nunzio (for real) on Saturday, him beating me (as usual) on Sunday. For the year, he won first place in 65+, I was second, and Mike came in third, even though he's faster than either of us, but he missed a few races - they grade on attendance.

Saturday was my best ride of the season. Nunzio and I passed each other a couple of times on the first lap or so, then I gradually pulled away from him and even caught a few 55+ guys. After the 65+ "podium" (a rock), I instinctively grabbed the third place prize, even though I finished second (to Mike). I suppose it's good to have been on the podium often enough to have "instincts", albeit self-deprecating ones.

Sunday's race was the opposite of Saturday's: long straightaways and a hill so steep that I ran it every time. I could have tried to ride it as far as possible, then probably fall off, roll down the hill and have to run it anyway. And in case any spectators from that hill are reading, "running" was mostly a state of mind - you might have mistaken it for "walking".

This race started with a drag-strip light, but my "instincts" expected a whistle. When everyone else started, I waited for an official to call "offsides" and move them all back ten yards. By the time I grasped the situation, let's just say I had maximized my opportunities to pass people. In the end, it was a fairly satisfying race: I was 12th out of 22, or as I like to put it, the winner of the second half (11 + 11 = 22).

With one lap to go, the official, as usual, rang a bell as I crossed the line, but this time, also yelled to me that I "just made it!". I was briefly proud of this until I realized that what I had "just made" was a requirement to endure a whole 'nother lap. I had crossed the line ahead of the leader who hadn't quite lapped me. See, once the leader finishes the race, you are done when you next cross the finish line, so I had to complete my entire lap. I was last to finish the race - but I wasn't last! The order was me, the leader, then all the guys I had passed.  They had been lapped, so they got to stop after five laps; I had to do six. I knew the spectators mistakenly thought I was the slowest guy in the race, so I kept yelling "I'm Last Not-Lapped, not Last", but they thought I was just doing diction exercises.

You know, I think I've raced on Sunday's grounds before, in fact, it might be the site of a story that usually works when I tell it, but that I've never written. Could that be my next blog post? Is that a cliffhanger?

Penn Ultimate weekend

There is a brilliant website for discovering and registering for bike events, bikereg.com.  It has a Race Predictor, which you might think analyzes prospective parents' chromosomes, but instead, predicts who will beat whom in upcoming bike races. Despite the fact that I have lost to the legendary Nunzio in every race this year, Race Predictor insisted I would beat him last Saturday. It probably also predicted that the Eagles would beat the Patriots. You can probably guess where this story is going - yes, I finished ahead of Nunzio for the first time this season. I can't claim that I beat him per se, because at the start of the race, a pile-up separated us, and he was hopelessly behind from the start. He just went through the motions, even stopping to fix damaged crime scene tape marking the course. But these details will be lost in the mists of time, so let the record show that on 12/5/2015, I finished ahead of Nunzio.

How did Race Predictor know this would happen? Over my lifetime, I've spent more time with algorithms than with people, and to me, this seems more impressive than Watson beating Ken Jennings at Jeopardy. I should apply R.P's algorithm to lottery numbers.

Within the race, my story was that I passed and gained on both Dr. Lou and #20 (never got his name). Neither of these gentlemen were in my racing class, but you play the hand you're dealt, or more to the point, race the guy ahead of you. I had enough margin on the last lap to be sure I could beat them if I didn't make a mistake. Once again, you can probably guess where this story is going - 50 yards from the finish, I did something to dislodge my back wheel. If I had my wits about me and just picked up the bike and ran to the finish, I could have beaten them, but by the time I finagled my wheel back into alignment, both had passed me. C'est la vie, although I think I said something other than "la vie" at the time.

Sunday's race was a return the norm - Nunzio beat me, Mike beat both of us. After the race, we discussed how finishing third is actually pretty good for me, because I'm three or four years older than either of them. They pointed out that in the 15-18 or 10-14 year-old races, a couple of years makes a huge difference: 10 year-olds vs. 14 year olds? 15 vs. 18? Hardly fair contests, so on the other side of life's Bell Curve, shouldn't I, too, be graded on a curve? I felt pretty good about this until I realized the flip side of the argument - I am three or four years closer to infirmity, decay and decrepitude than either Mike or Nunzio. C'est la mort.

On a brighter note, regardless of what happens in the last race of the season next week, I will finish second in cumulative points. I'm #2!