A belated report on the scene in Philly.
Saturday night Pete and I found out the hard way that the Christiana mall does not have a movie theatre anymore. We floored it from the race to the mall and dealt with all the insanity there only to realize, there is no theatre anymore.
Wow, the mall scene is intense. The sweet old video game arcade is now a Hot Topic. Bummer, I was going school Pete at some skeeball.
We settled down to watch Teen Wolf and do a bunch of stretching.
And I could not get to sleep Saturday night! I kept tossing and turning, thinking about the weekend and everything that was happening.
Sunday morning found me up early and tired from a sleepless night. Pete and I bickered on the drive out to Wissahickon and I struggled to warm up. I was certainly not focused on racing. I even discussed not starting, she talked me out of it. Yeah, it would be silly to spend so much cash and not at least start the race.
I started. Pretty fast too. Got up in tenth or so, Tonkin came around me and I got on his wheel and…
WHACK! pssst, psst, psst, psst…
I found the one big nasty rock on the course and put a hole in my tyre. I ran it ALL the way back to the pit and got the B bike and considered heading straight for the rental car and a cold Philly soft pretzel. But once I started catching and passing riders, I started having fun! So, I worked my way back into the race to finish in 23rd place. Hey, I got $18 bucks!
I do want to note the huge difference in crowd attitude and scectator scene at the Granogue and Wissahickon races. Dude. Philly. It has a reputation as the Portland of the East coast. And for good reason. There were more hipster, punky, fixed gear riding, messenger types casting quick backward glances at my whip and muttering snide remarks to each other than there are at Portland races! I overheard some stabs at my gender and some Vanilla smack talk.
Comes with the territory I guess.
Granogue, on the other hand, was mostly free of hip attitude and filled with lots of people coming up and telling me they were sorry about my mom and that this (racing and the race scene) was my family and they were here for me. That was so god damn sweet.
I’ve got bad mojo with the Wissahickon race; last year I bonk out, this year I flat out. Weird.
So, off to Philly and vegan cheesesteaks. We did loops of South Street until we got a parking spot and then walked up the block to get some dinner. Gianna’s. A whole case full of vegan baked goodies. I’m glad we split the cheesesteak. It was pretty gross. Well, more novel than gross. And I talked myself out of mailing a dozen cannoli back to Portland for the Veloshop team. Sorry.
Pete killed the memory on the digicam so we got a disposable. A few more shots and I’ll get prints made up.
I need more photos of me NOT on a run up.