Early in the season, Mitch pointed out to me that my saddle was too low. I'd measured and re-measured the height, and I had it perfect, but failed to take into account that my new saddle was designed to flex and absorb bumps. When I sat on it, it sagged about 1.5 centimeters. Over the course of about six weeks, I raised it and the feeling of power started coming back. The previous time I raced this course, I had so many mechanical problems with the bicycle that I borrowed a six-speed cogset from Miimii's bicycle, and fought my shifters, which were designed to work with my seven speed. But in this race I had the right gear, the right set-up, and more rage than I'd had in years, and it all came together.Although I never had much in the way of real results, the best part was trying to make my team, and my friends proud. I have never, to this date, ever quit a race, or stopped racing while I was in a race. I'd occasionally run into stronger cyclists who'd beaten me badly, and it wasn't uncommon for them to say,"We saw you trying to catch us the whole time". They knew I didn't quit. If you can't win, then you can lose with honor.
I decided to enter the Troika Triathlon again. I was in far better shape than when I raced it in 1992, and knew I could better my time by quite a bit. But the training took its toll on me (and Moo). Note the cat on the back of the couch. This photo shows me, wiped out after a 1.2 mile swim, and a 53 mile bicycle ride. There is a telltale sign here that I'm training for a triathlon--my big toenail is black. It's dead and getting ready to fall off from the beating it took. Miimii wouldn't let me keep it.
