First of all, some of the racers Cadillac George, Might Scott Young, and I lined up against in the "masters" race were younger than Lance Armstrong. Yep, of the 40 or so youthful masters, we saw full heads of hair - not grey, and even some pimples! The scheduled 20 miles and 18 times up the legger-ripper of a climb was gonna be ugly.
Sure 35 years old might be a category called called Masters, that is, if you were also holding an elite U-23 race. Some of the riders we raced were young enough to be our children! But who is complaining? Great venue, great course, only thing missing was Pascale's underwear dance.
Short story to tell: the rude young ones nailed it from the gun, you would have thought it was going to be 1 lap instead of 18. MSY had the fortune of getting a flat, he was out midway. Conti towed me around for multiple laps before dropping me. I just couldn't hang on to the pace and dutifully reserved my dignity (sure you did) by finishing last. Not last, if you count all the other grey beards that were slamming trunks and pulling out of the parking lot while we struggled to the finish.
Thanks to Jeff Jackson for coming to sign autographs, The Tingler for videography, and Mel for almost giving us a push up the hill.
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