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Oh boy. Scheduled for 3 laps or 30 miles of pain we set off. Actually up. From the gun CLIMB CLIMB CLIMB. I hang first lap, Dave hangs, Jeff is eyeballing Scott. Maybe you don't know this, but we live in the flatness of Central Ohio. Freeway overpasses are our cols, our muurs, our collinas, our backen (you get the idea). It's freaking flat around here. Second lap and the big dogs eat, actually climb and it's bye-bye Mark and Dave. I felt like Mark Cavandish at Milan -San Remo. Fat, Fast, and Dropped.
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We didn't even stay around for the finish.
Damn you Scott Young!