Preparation time was minimal since none of my bikes are in good shape right now. It was actually quite nice.
I had good legs despite having "trained" a bit the day before. Good as in they were attached to my body, anyway.
My staging order was second row, a first for this season, though I quickly squandered that at the start by missing my pedal.
People went forward and backward, and I eventually settled into a group with Mike, Matt Myette, Sam Morse, Synjen Marracco, Chris Hamlin, Chandler Delinks, and probably Toby Wells. Of course, I decided on lap 2 or 3 that riding in a group was no way to ride, so I attacked the shit out of the group on the running track. This may or may not have been a good decision.
Riding alone is awesome.
The next lap was mostly me coming close to falling off my bike because I now had an empty matchbook and needed to keep it going. Eventually I lost my balance on one turn going WAY too hot and Fred Flintstoned my bike to a stop. I lost a little bit of time. I tried to stay on the group but got super sloppy and burned too many matches. Sam Morse told me to stop riding poorly and I complied. But the group rode away.
With 4 to go I was alone, but looking behind me I would occasionally see Synjen hanging out. I usually pedaled harder when that happened.
He's coming to get ya.
I was continuously offered waffle and beer feeds on the hard ride up, but this is Boston, not LA and the only feeds I take look like currency. Though FourLoko might quickly become a collectors item in no time.
Mike shouted at me from across the course -- something about a pit? Maybe he wanted to barbecue. Turned out he needed my pit bike for the last lap, he had a flat. No problem, I needed to pass one more person anyway!
I saw Synjen coming for me so I sprinted like I almost meant it on the track, for lucky number 13. This is pretty much where I expected to be anyways, though I've yet to best Cary Fridrich this year and it is a bit troublesome. Especially since he parties harder than I do. Oh well.