Lincoln Continental

Now available.

Rapha M-22

While there are great pictures that accompany this Rapha feature on the M-22 ride I took part in over the summer, it's the words of Daniel Wakefield Pasley that capture the day.

War Axe New Product Monday: Win a Free Coozie

You know where the details are, but just in case.

"You'll Never Limp Alone"

But things are still getting done... just off the bike.

Transitions

This time of year, blog life tends to be pretty damn slow and, if you explore the archives, you'll see this things better days are behind it. While I don't necessarily plan to cut the head off the snake, you'll find me adding content to the War Axe Site more and more.

You'll also see War Axe is now on Facebook. Go, become a fan, and add some smart ass photo captions. Sam and I are always happy to snap right back to you.

Days Gone By

I was trolling through the archives of the EnduroSnob blog this evening, searching for a few pictures for a post I have bubbling in my head. (I used to be so much more creative with this thing.) I stumbled across this old post and it's accompanying picture. I've been smiling ever since. Good times with a good friend.

Friends Make the Best Models

Case in Point

Nebraska State Cyclocross Video aka Day Two in Lincoln

Susan put this one together. Not sure why this is so blurry when I have the same camera as Corey, but I hope it brings a smile anyway. Thanks to everyone for a great time and congrats to those who got some socks.

A View From Hooligan Hill

Did Someone Say 'More Cowbell?'

Earned in KC but ready for the Weekend

'The Michael Johnson'

Snappy Caps has this policy of letting people review photos of custom made caps and then, should the customer decide they don't like the cap, allowing them to simply say, "No, thank you." and walk away from the purchase without so much as paying a dime.

Recently, sometime this fall, some took advantage of this policy and, as I was walking down our hall, looked down to see orphaned lid sitting in a small box.

"What is that?"

"A cap someone didn't want."

I laughed and said, "I can see why..."

Immediately, I thought of one man. Michael Johnson, the 200 and 400 meter speedster.

Shoes of a champion

Today, I threw the cap now known as "The Michael Johnson" on before Mrs. Snob and I cruised through Wilderness Park. I thought I was taking the ugly duckling out for a walk...

... now I love this damn thing.

It's one of the few caps that actually stay put over the Euro-Mop that has now become my hair and, let's face it, after pink and black finger nails, a gold cap under a grey helmet is pretty subdued.

The Profile

The Close Up

"They never end in Lincoln, Nebraska"

Good stuff from Daniel Wakefield Pasley: French Broad River

Turnaround Time

Expecting a pithy post about getting my fitness back? My apologies.

Sam's on a roll (or, as Corey might say, like Butter.)

Malcontent

You're right. It is almost as if we don't want people to know what's going on in the World of War Axe, but now Sam has gone ahead and interrupted our silence. Don't be surprised if, for some reason, updates over there start to become a bit more frequent.

Really?

Really.

Another Word For Therapy: Wilderness

Two hours with near complete focus on the trail. Bring the leaves, mud, wonderful weather and just concentrate on riding and enjoying those moments where the bike is just flowing around corners and your heart and lungs are just humming along and all the static in your head just boils away to nothing.

Motivations Old and New

It's always interesting to me to see what drives both my friends and myself to stay in some semblance of shape over the winter. Usually, it's a race. Sometimes, it's being a fat-ass and other times I seem to just go.

This off-season is already proving itself to be a reinvention yet again. I've managed to somehow get involved in an indoor soccer team which is comprised of the fathers from Seven's soccer team. What began as a little cross training has turned into my typical urge to go harder and improve, so much so that I found myself on a treadmill after arriving home last night in order to loosen up the legs before dinner and tapping a ball around with Conrad in the living room before he went up for bed.

The race scene is offering it's usual carrots but, even though I have a 'plan' to try the NUE series this year, it's one single race that slides into my mind while out riding in the last few weeks... Dirty Kanza.

Here You Go, Sam: "Rookie On Rollers"

Droppage Time

After a couple months spent for essentially off the bike, this week marked getting back into the swing and back in shape with an eye toward building up for next year.

A D Street ride was the order of the morning as I haven't really seen a lot of my friends in that same amount of time. With a 9am start, the ride seemed a perfect way to get going again. It was also an eye-opener as I found I'd lost a bit more fitness than I had hoped.

Syd and Corey leading through the park

In many ways, it was a typical gravel jaunt, but the fall weather was perfect so I didn't mind slowly falling off the pace then, at almost the appropriate time due to my failing fitness, turning and heading for home solo. Hopefully, next Saturday I'll be a bit better and actually hold a conversation and a wheel.

Uh, Corey, that's not a smile...

Assorted Snobbery: Who Are 'The Better Beatles?'

While we were in Chicago, my buddy Mike had this little gem.

Like An Well-Drawn Espresso to Start Your Day

Bad puns aside, this blog's clearly not immune to the cycles of life and this time of year, I always seem to only pay enough attention to keep the thing on life support. Yet, as thoughts of next year's race schedule and ramping up the fitness again start of rise up in my mind, so does maintaining this little section of the web.

In the midst of fall break, the crew and I went down to KC with little agenda and after a short time I find myself in front of LatteLand. With scads of places to get coffee, this particular LatteLand was on the only one with bikes parked out front. With the bikes all of the fixed variety, one was offensive in its construction which included an obscene negative rise (term?) stem leading risers bars mounted to, I assume, slightly mimic bullhorns... but not really. I stood above the bike trying to figure out how I would ride it, but was stumped, so I strolled inside.

The bike above, I have to assume, was owned by the guy who took my order. His Kansas t-shirt a perfect match for the Jayhawk on this top tube pad. Mustache, smiles, pleasantries and quality espresso lead to a pleasant 20 minutes of decompression, followed quickly by a desire to grab a napkin and jot down a cycling related things to do.

With no pen, I left the list mental and will start today. Sam wants roller laughter and I might as well deliver.

Flat Tire Ration Card

If anyone can guess where I saw this, I will be stunned.

Strange Light

There are several reasons to think very little of the photo below. Obviously, it's blurry, off-center and the subject matter is questionable at best.

There are a couple of reasons to think highly of it too. You'll notice, simply, that it's a cyclist who has ridden to work. I imagine one who hasn't ridden consistently for quite some time. Despite looking a bit to serious in the moment, I suspect there's a bit of quiet satisfaction hidden there as well.

Of course, he could also be an ass who would refer to himself in the 3rd person, reading an email which has him annoyed before he even sits down at his desk. It's hard to know.

Assorted Snobbery: Chorus for a Friday

Quiet Satisfaction

I started rolling home from the office a bit after 5:30 last night. With darkness easing in and a light, cold rain coming down, I was enjoying a lot of the tiny details that sometimes you're ready to see and other time you aren't; deer on the trail, rain drops in a puddle, a bike path to myself.

When you wait through an extra turn of lights at the cross walk, either the therapy session is working or you need another hour out. Sometimes, maybe it's both.

Channeling Steven Wright

You know that feeling you get when tires slip, your bike starts to go out from under you and you think you're bound for the ground...

I've been feeling that way all day.

Have You Noticed the Lull?

I'm not sure how casually Mod meant to toss the idea out, but then there it was and all that was left was to scoop it up and make it my own.

"It" is the Vapor Trail 125. I toyed with the idea a couple of years ago and, with a new other NE rock stars excited at the notion, it seems like a road trip is inevitable and in-order.

Speaking of order, it's time to get some back. The treadmill is cleaned off, the softgoods are organized, the post-it notes are ready to count some calories and I am more than ready to get back to business.

Assorted Snobbery: Player Songs

Way, way back in the day, I was lucky enough to play well in front of some pretty big crowds but I can't even imagine how players can keep their head on straight when people belt out something like this once you score a goal. I do, however, completely understand how professional footballers end up with WAGS. That's not safe for the office, btw. (More links like that and I will need to start posting on Showen's blog.)

Down Time

There is a skill to relaxation. It seems to be a skill I have yet to acquire.

My thought process was simple. Given that I am either coaching a youth sport or attending a youth sporting event on six of seven week days, I would dismiss the frustrations of trying to force riding into the schedule. Let go of the irritation of driving to work. It was all going so well... but now my body has started to revolt against the lack of activity and my mind has begun to follow.

"I'm worried about you not riding. You can be a dick when you aren't working out." - Mrs. Snob

We're almost there... Two weeks... We're almost there.

Days of "The List"

Well, it's over. With the possible exception of a few cross races, which will be done more for the joy of beer hand-ups than results, the race season has seen its last days.

And, as always happens this time of year, I made "The List." It's a list in and around cycling, but outside of that, it's open and unfocused, part review and prelude, and open to edits without prior notice.

At the moment, it looks like this:

- Review the NUE series calendar

- Warranty my Bonty Wheels and/or kick down for a new set of 29er wheels (suggestions?)

- Do more XC races next year

- Get the Evil Unicorns racing again

- Get dropped by Corey more often on Saturday mornings

- Sell the Niner and get a geared bike for gravel to single track rides

- Spend less training time riding solo

Now it's a matter of wondering what additions will come next... It's inevitable.

You Won't Find Sasquatch Pelts...

... but we can still help keep your feet warm.

The New War Axe Bicycles Online Store

That's Entertainment

Mrs. Snob has an affinity for pictures like this. Glimpses of me caught on film having a good time and being truly happy. Thanks to MOD for joining me in a goof and the rest of the NE crew for stellar weekend.

Fools on Parade

Dakota 50 International...

For several years, friends from Lincoln and Omaha have been telling me that I had to race the Dakota 50. Finally, this year, I made the trip. As Scott, Sam, Brandon and I arrived in Spearfish mid-afternoon, I could easily see why so many people loved the trip. An incredibly nice campsite so near the race start was just the beginning for an almost ideal race weekend experience.

EnduroSnob, come to the 5oh, sir.

MOD and the Omaha crew arrived not too long afterward and along with the usual antics, we talked about the race and specifically, the course itself. Mark in particular lit up when the conversation turned to the "50 miles of a little bit of everything" that makes up the Dakota 50. I was ready to pre-ride then and there, but we waited for the next day.

"Men is what we are."

The race opens with a three mile gravel climb that dumps into single track that, save for a couple of quick rollers, continued upwards for roughly another mile. The consideration was clear, you can peg it and try to beat as many people as you can to the single track. The problem with that is that it would be very very easy to blow up. The other option is to stay within yourself and risk getting caught up in traffic.

I went with B, going to the point of wearing a heart-rate monitor to keep my ego in check, and handed myself the predicted result. As the single-track kicked up, I could hear derailleurs dropping through gears and started to feel the frustration of being trapped in the pack. Getting caught in a near track stand and trying to muscle through climbs isn't the smart way to ride, but there I was struggling to roll over what was likely an overly ambitious gear for the course and giving away a lot of ground to riders by hoping off but letting them go by instead of running behind them.

Preride chat session.

Sam caught up to me around mile 7 or 8, as things were just beginning to start to clear and, no matter how much base he has, that guy can handle a bike. Without riders in front, we made quick work of the single track in front of us. Unfortunately, that would always lead us to another log jam and more 30 revolution per minute riding. Just before the last checkpoint, we were behind one guy in a heavy spin and I started growing impatient, but there was really no place to pass as we had a creek on one side and a dewy slope on the other.

When it did open up, Sam punched it and I spun out on a steep slope as I went to follow. I run up the hill and tried to remount but Sam's momentum was gathered and I was stuck at a standstill. It was just before the first aid station an the last I would see Sam until post race.

Tourist Mode

Either on that climb or the long descent that followed, I managed to cut my sidewall. I suspect the downhill is the more likely culprit though as the gash seemed too large to have come from a slow leak. Either way, I let momentum do what it could then, like some pie-in-the-sky optimist, toyed with my tired thinking I could somehow get it to seal so I could add more air and continue. I pumped it up, waited, squeezed, massaged, begged, pleaded and who knows what else (voodoo seemed out of the question due to the pins) but it was really just me wasting my own time. Finally, just before another climb, I accepted my fate and released my skewer to put a tube in. Time to become a fucking tourist.

As luck would have it, Brandon came rolling by just as I was putting my tire back on the rim. He was hurting a little bit and was going to ride ahead, but spun back and decided to wait for me. At the time, I remember thinking I'd at least ride with him to the second aid station and just take it from there. However, Brandon arrived at the aid station in a bit of a mess. Cold chills, stopped sweating, the classic signs. It was then that he was stuck with me. He recovered and we took off for a ride. B rode his ass off. He wasn't the fastest guy on the course, but he dug incredibly deep to finish that damn ride and I was proud to ride it with him.

Balls Deep

Of course, he also had to suffer through my nonsense out on course. And, those that have ridden a long race with me know that such nonsense is considerable. At one point, Brandon paused after pushing up a hill, looked at me and said something with a voice of gravel.

"Whoa," I said, "Don't start going Godfather on me..." And then I proceeded to do a Marlon Brando impersonation revolving around the don saying he had a job for me, and that job was to ride downhill really fast. Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Brandon also got the classic "Death! You are my bitch lover!!" But, Wedding Crashers may not be in Brandon repertoire. That, or he was silently begging me to shut the hell up.

So close to bacon and beer

I even tried the classic Friends gimmick of asking him to name five famous women he would sleep with if it were cleared by his wife. He started off with guns blazing, giving me Rachel Welch as his first answer. He even backed it with a bit of added commentary. "Awesome! Who else?" I tried to let it go, but couldn't. A few miles would pass and I would ask again. "B? I need another lady." It never happened. (Damn it, B. You still owe me four more.)

PBR street gang

In the end, it took Brandon and I just under eight hours to cross the line. We rode into an empty camp, recovered then went to join the Nebraska crew at the awards ceremony. The good times continued when I learned that MOD, Lucas and Roxy all rocked podium spots, Showen set a personal best and Sam felt good for what he'd done with little training. I also got to finally meet several people who I'd know only from blogdom and through mutual friends.

MOD and I also managed to act the fools with a carton of cigarettes found at the Common Grounds coffee shop. If someone has pictures of that, either send them to me, or burn them.

Worth a Thousand Words...

... but knowing me, I'll end up giving you a thousand anyway.

There's a Hammer Gel wrapper and a tube under that slash.

5:35am at Common Ground

Serendipity

We took a chance that Common Ground, the coffee shop where
registration occurs, would have wireless and found we could grab our
numbers early. I avoided the temptation to grab some coffee and just
sat with MOD on a comfortable couch watching the proceedings.

Preride Complete

It's going to be an interesting race tomorrow. Not from the
standpoint of rocking a top placing, but with an eye on enjoyment.

After a few short miles of singletrack, I solidified a decision that
had been circling in my head for weeks. Next year, it's hundred mile
races and others like the Dakota 50.

I am anxious to see how the Lincoln crew does tomorrow. We've got
some people looking really good to go.

Lunchtime in Rapid City

From the Man with Three Names

Crunk Cross MPLS

"It will be easier than Moab, unless you try to keep up in drinking with me." - Johnny

Crunk Cross MPLS

Easy Like Sunday... Afternoon

Corey, Troy and I made a run to a missile silo North of town today. For them, it was easy despite riding and organizing the GLGA the day before, for me, not so much.

Mindset

This quote has been rolling through my mind a lot lately. With nearly every night spent coaching sports for my kids, it all flies by while very little gets done, particularly in terms of fitness.

World's Collide and Subside

This was found by friend and co-worker, Josh, the same cat who joined me at the Amstel Gold.

Intentional Full URL: http://emberapp.com/jamfactory/images/death-before-derailleur

Documented

Colorado Sighting.

And When I Say "Of Course"...

... I mean, "Of Course!"

Experimental Theatre

I've been experimenting with a heart-rate monitor a lot lately. It was pretty obvious after a few rides that once I go above a certain threshold, I'm done in about three seconds. So, today I decided to go out and ride 50 miles right below that mark.

Smart training? No idea, but it felt very good to blow out all the cobwebs (and I little silly to keep looking down at my wrist.)

Nature did put me in my place though, with above ten miles to go a bird decided to drop a pile on my wrist and no amount of water seemed to be able to wash it away. Avarian flu here I come!

North Bend Bound

Travelled NW 40 and County Rd 25 toward North Bend. Despite not
making the entire route, my friend Mike chalked up his longest time on
gravel and longest overall ride. He'd have make the entire distance
but time wasn't on our side.

The Streak May Be Over

Kerkove has some skills

I'd been wondering and worried about this for a while. While I haven't always been at my best for TI, I had so far managed to get to the start line each year. A scheduling version of being "between a rock and a hard place" has year six looking incredibly unlikely. Perhaps new events will lead to fresh motivations and new scenery.

Right now though, I find myself feeling a bit nostaligic. Five years is a long time.

Haircut 100

Getting the mop trimmed today... Maybe it's time to buy in to the mullet.

Ride It Like You'll Blog It

As they say, there are only twenty-four hours in a day ("and only twelve notes, a man can play...") So, between coaching two teams, having a third practice to attend and a peach of a week at work, this little square peg in a round internet was ignored and, at times, simply forgotten.

But while you can remove an local XC races as options due to a youth sports conflict, the Dakota 50 is still out there asking for consideration and a reasonable amount of fitness to be present at the start line.

South by Southwest

Saturday. I hit a quick run before rolling a solid three plus hours with Sam and B. Minks. Sam got me lost in town but I regain bearing outside of town as we made a nice loop out of the South side of town, closing things down on the Road Island. The ride ended with the pleasant surprise of a table set path-side offering free vegetables. Score.

Them's good eating...

Saturday Night. More family coming first as both kids had things keeping them up late and, by extension, handing Mrs. Snob and I the same fate. (Though she got the worst of it.) Mod's ride was not an option, but B. and Sam were up for more and we took to the pavement yet again.

Heading East back around Branched Oak

A little light Dakota 50 talk, some remnants of yesterdays ride in the legs and a dash of headwind made it another nice effort.

An angle usually reserved for Cornbread

Via Johnny

Exit Strategy

What started as a simple effort to gain back some lost fitness ended in the simply conclusion that I would make a horrid meteorologist.

Quick natural break

After heading north for about an hour and a half, thunder and lightening made themselves known to the West. After concluding it was heading my way and riding for home, it soon seemed I might be riding right into the weather.

Trying to figure out which way it's going

Soon enough, I was on South 14th realizing that I have nothing on Les Neesman. With weather all-around, I headed toward what I know best, some place that serves espresso

"Let's go with a triple..."

Assorted Snobbery: It's Been an Interesting Week...

... but not on the bike.

The Cronin crew played host to a British soccer coach over the past week. While I wasn't overly surprised that he wasn't familiar with Graeme Obree, I was fairly shocked to find he drank Bud Light and listened to The Doors, Led Zepp and classic rock. As I said to John and Sam, "What kind of cultural experience is that?"

However, what was fun was simply talking Scotland with him and discovering that they use miles instead of kilometers for driving distance, have a lot more land mass that I had thought, and, as you might expect, that BraveHeart was incredibly inaccurate from a historical perspective.

With the kids busy for three hours in the evening, basemiles had been on my mind. Build back up, get strong, etc. etc. However, when my commute felt like a century on Monday, I backed off the bike time and spent each evening out at the pitch watching the crew. It seems there will be a bit more 'ease' involved in easing back into it.

Not that I don't like sleeping in, but this is ridiculous.

Cycling Vogue

Creeping Back

I found myself coming back to life a bit this morning, leading to my first time on the bike since 9 Mile. The pinkie IF and I commuted and, while I wouldn't say I felt a spring ready to burst from my legs, at least I was riding. The glands are still a bit dodgy but at least things are going the right direction.

A telltale sign things still aren't right did rear its ugly head on the way home. Someone in a hurry to get home nearly drove into me at a street crossing. Generally, this prompts something from me; a hand on the trunk or a middle finger salute. Today though, nothing. Not even a head shake. I locked up the brakes, paused and moved on and that is just not like me.

Take Two Aspirin and Call Me in the Morning...

"Sir, those aren't chewables."

"I'll be the judge of that."

As people who race bikes, we talk a lot about how we feel. And, as a group who 'exercise and call it sport,' those conversations can range from excuse riddled lack-of-training cover ups to legitimate reports resulting from the various viruses and bed bugs the general populace stroll around with everyday.

Prior to 9 Mile, I didn't feel my best and, with Sam strolling around with Mono, played the denial game, deciding not to get looked at until I was back from Wisconsin.

Fast-forward to this week, blood draws and chats with your friendly doctor so-and-so. Has anything changed? Not really.

Poking and proding lead to some commentary that my glands were indeed swollen and that, yes, I likely had Mono (Damn it, Sam!). Of course, then the blood work came back negative (Oh, sorry, Sam.)

After that news was delivered, I got this.

"Well, you definately have something, that much is certain."

"But it's not Mono."

"No, ever had any allegry issues."

"No."

"Well, it might be that. We're going to put you on some Claritin."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we'll try that."

<>

"Do you want a prescription?"

"It's over the counter, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah."

"I think I'm good. Thanks." (For nothing.)

Since we're grasping at straws, my vote for What Ails the Snob? is cytomegalovirus. It's what Alessandro Ballan had that knocked him out of the classics and cemented the infamous World Champions curse for another year. Why? Because it fits my symptoms and, because it's more romantic than having some silly little flower be such a big impact.

Feel free to cast your vote. You can also offer sage wisdom, such as 'take two aspirin,' 'walk it off,' or 'rub some dirt on it.'

24 Hr Party People

You know, once you head out for a lap, you really have no idea what's going on in the pit. Ah, the madness of 24 racing.

I believe Carrie is "thanking" Sam for the polished War Axe belt buckle, but who knows.

Speechless...

24 Hrs of 9 Mile: No Sympathy for the Devil

"Wow.  You just don't have it right now, but it's a long race."

For eight hours of the 24 Hrs of 9 Mile, the angel on my shoulder kept whispering those words in my ear, so I tried to keep turning the pedals over with a hopeful eye on mimicking Constantine's resurrection from last year.  Of course, it didn't happen.

As we lined up from the start, I wished Aristotle luck, lined up behind eventual SS Solo winner the Ronsta, and looked around for Paddy's pink and white helmet.  I didn't see him at the start but 3/4 of the way through I heard a "Hey Fella" on my left and there he was.  I smiled, said something I don't recall and as we hit the bikes, split grabbed our steeds and I watched Paddy punch it to get ahead of traffic.  I went to follow but didn't have the gear or snap to really follow.  I yelled "Give'er Paddy" as he dropped away into the first single track turned my focus to the trail.

As I was finishing the lap, I knew I wasn't really firing well, but, remarkable for me was the fact that I had cleaned all of the courses technical sections pretty easily.  Something that had been a problem in the past, so there was the hope.  Stay smooth, handle the bike well until the legs came back.

Just before the end of a lap at 9 Mile you pop into a short single track section that's flat smooth and twisting.  I have always found it fun, but it was also dry to the bone and I washed out cruising around a turn.    No injuries, just something else to keep the governor on the machine.

The next four or five laps were essentially the same.  Good technically, but just no zip and the constant process of trying to figure out how to break out of the rut.  I came in at the end of four and said to Sam something to the effect of, "My lap times are pretty mediocre, aren't they?"  You could tell he was wondering what the right thing to say was but responded with a straight-forward 'yes' and objectively broke down how things were going.  

Lap six, at least I think it was six, unwound me.  

First, Chris and one of his Siren teammates passed me near the first aid station, but I unintentionally pulled them back on the subtle climb into what I think of as the first techie section of the course (I'm sure it has a name but I don't know it.)  As we climbed up and into the rocks, I was slowly reeling them in so I decided that I would see if I could get on a wheel before the rocks ended.  It was working and as we entered the gradual descent, I was nearly close enough to try to say something clever to Chris, when my front skewer popped loose and play time was over.   No big deal really, but then it was like someone kicked me in the nuts.

Second, and only a short time later, Paddy lapped me.  Which is not to say I expected to win the race or top him, I just never thought I would get lapped by anyone before dark.  

"So, you've got no snap, you're bummed you got passed by a guy running a 40x11 and you need to strap your balls balls back on." - Sam Rosenau dispenses love War Axe style.

So after another pit, some disappointed ranting and general wasted energies, I took back off and, somewhere along the way decided I needed to switch into "fun mode."  Fun Mode had a few bullet-points in it, such as the idea of some how blogging a lap.  I also envisioned it involved drinking, riding and hitting the jump at the first aid station but when I pitted and announced we were switching to Fun Mode, both John and Sam looked at me like I was half-baked and so, I just went back out.

My next to last lap remains memorable for one simple reason.  I crashed in a rock garden.  Near the end of the second technical section of the course, there was a line I kept taking to the far left that was not the standard route.  I couldn't tell you what I missed but, one moment I was upright, then my fork bottomed out and I was on the ground making those eerie unintentional groaning sounds people sometime make after a wreck.  My knee took a bit more of the impact then the rest of me, but I slowly sorted myself out and finished out the lap.

I feel like there should be more to relate about my last lap, but I don't have much.  I remember thinking none of the climbs were an issue, despite my knee not enjoying the efforts.  I remember water tasting like gold.  I remember the glands in my neck hurting with swallowing being tough and I remember fireworks going off at the Red Bud Rd aid station.  Otherwise, it was an anti-climatic end.  I sat down.  Sam told me something about the battle for 5th and 6th place and I fell asleep.  I know you can go back out even if you take a huge break, but it never really occurred to me.  To me, it was another DNF.  

It occurs to me now that every race I have done this season has ended with those three letters and I am a little unsure of what to say about that...

Off to figure out what comes next...