bam. we just brought it up a knotch.
The better write up is here.
And photos are collecting here
Mitchell on the box. Tinker sprinting for 10th. Black Lung Sager in 18th. Little Calves in 8th/semipros.
The Cannondale tent city was enormous. And right next to awards stage speakers. My hearing will never be the same.
Salute! My main man Christian is getting married this week in Madrid. I should be there. I'm not.
Time to get on the plane and be that guy coughing on everything. The thick ones that make you sort of barf a little bit when you hear them coming out of the fat guy two rows back.
In Sunday's race I saw some amazing explosions. In the first 30min Trebon was tearing us apart, winding up a gear over every little hill. Ouch. I think he walked the last 2 miles. The Japanese riders kept wadding it up in front of Sheppard and I...pure comedy.
Ramirez from Costa Rica is built like a brick casa de mierda . He was skinny at La Ruta. At Sea Otter, he looked like a cage fighter. I followed Miguel Martinez in the single track for a few miles. It was cool to see the same guy who we all saw in the press winning the biggest races in the world back in the day...now he's scrapping for $500 at the Otter. When I was in my world of hurt and waiting for normal breathing to return, train after train went by...finally I hoped on Ned's group and got to catch up with him for a bit. The Legends category is pretty cool, especially when Tinker wins it and he's in front of me.
Towards the end of the race, Manny Prado, Decker, and I were racing the last DH like it was a super D. It was quite comical, chopping each other off in the rough stuff on slick tires, having no idea how far back we were in the placings, then sprinting it out as if there was money on the line. Like Bart G says, if there's a number on your bike, its a race.
And photos are collecting here
Mitchell on the box. Tinker sprinting for 10th. Black Lung Sager in 18th. Little Calves in 8th/semipros.
The Cannondale tent city was enormous. And right next to awards stage speakers. My hearing will never be the same.
Salute! My main man Christian is getting married this week in Madrid. I should be there. I'm not.
Time to get on the plane and be that guy coughing on everything. The thick ones that make you sort of barf a little bit when you hear them coming out of the fat guy two rows back.
In Sunday's race I saw some amazing explosions. In the first 30min Trebon was tearing us apart, winding up a gear over every little hill. Ouch. I think he walked the last 2 miles. The Japanese riders kept wadding it up in front of Sheppard and I...pure comedy.
Ramirez from Costa Rica is built like a brick casa de mierda . He was skinny at La Ruta. At Sea Otter, he looked like a cage fighter. I followed Miguel Martinez in the single track for a few miles. It was cool to see the same guy who we all saw in the press winning the biggest races in the world back in the day...now he's scrapping for $500 at the Otter. When I was in my world of hurt and waiting for normal breathing to return, train after train went by...finally I hoped on Ned's group and got to catch up with him for a bit. The Legends category is pretty cool, especially when Tinker wins it and he's in front of me.
Towards the end of the race, Manny Prado, Decker, and I were racing the last DH like it was a super D. It was quite comical, chopping each other off in the rough stuff on slick tires, having no idea how far back we were in the placings, then sprinting it out as if there was money on the line. Like Bart G says, if there's a number on your bike, its a race.
posted by jsager at 11:37 AM
1 Comments:
(aren't you) Free (yet) Sager:
I meant to send you a note after crack berrying the results from La Otter. Killer job.
The results corroborate your definition of spontaneous human combustion. I want video. It's the new text.
Carry on.
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