The Peak Season Series feels like the Surf-City of old. It can't help it. It shares some of the same DNA. Although I felt like calling it a season, I couldn't help dragging myself out to the course of courses, the Watsonville County Fairgrounds. I love this course. But as with any love affair, there's bound to be lows, and this low was to put me about 6 feet under. I'd love to blame the course, the weather, the stars. As usual I can only blame myself. If there's one lesson I'll take home from racing SS this season, it's 'trust your instincts'. Instead, I listened to my bloated ego, stuffed on a HUGE gear I had used on flatter, much drier (e.g faster) courses and proceeded to die a thousands deaths as I flogged thebike through glue-grass. I should send AJM a thank you card for lapping me and mercifully severing my proverbial head a lap early and end my suffering. I was crapping after only 20 minutes in. The only thing that kept me going was the Madster slapping me high fives each remaining lap, joyously oblivious to my suffering and nieve in the futility of my effort. Damn that hurt.
photo nabbed from photoblake
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