Much like Putney this summer, there isn't going to be much of a Sterling race report. Basically, I got up, went to the basement to get my bike, and as I walked up the stairs I was like, "wow, my legs shouldn't burn walking up the stairs carrying a bike."
Combine that with some poor fueling decisions in the morning and I was already giving up on the start line.
Some sneaky moves got me into the top 20 anyway, from a 6th row start, as people cluster-f'ed around the start track and the first runup. But it didn't really matter, the race got sorted out and I didn't have anything resembling the gas required to hold my spot.
I crashed on lap two trying to make up for worthless legs by cornering too aggressively and that was pretty much the end of me fighting. C Todd came cooking by me somewhere along the line, slapped me on the back and said "come on" but I couldn't even pick it up to make a token effort to go with him. I tried to figure out how to drop out but I'm not a pro at that kind of thing so I could never quite bring myself to pull the trigger. I sat up and tried to ease my back and stomach pain for a while, eventually I started to feel a little better, and by now there were only 3 laps to go or whatever and I was back with people that truly could not corner to save their lives. So I tried to race them, I mean what the heck, that's what I paid money for, right? It was a pathetic sort of racing, them blowing me away on the flats and then me coming right back and getting blocked on the corners. Eventually I started to have a reason to race, I could see C Todd in the distance, I figured a final sprint against him would make up for the rest of the day...and then before I know it I'm right there with him... oh that's because he flatted.
So I finished all alone.
The beauty of the double weekend is you can always forget Saturday if you can conjure up a good ride Sunday. So I pulled out all my recovery tricks (even the recovery jog) to see if I could make like a phoenix at Palmer.
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