Freaky Tracky Stylie

Thanks to a very good friend of mine, this past weekend I tried something I never expected to do -- I got on a velodrome. No, this is not the machine which separates my Ft. Davis hematocrit from my Walburg blood samples, but in my experience it certainly did separate the men from the boys.

On Friday afternoon we traveled down to the Alkek Velodrome in "beautiful" Houston, Texas. Once there we received very friendly track certifications and practice sessions led by a multi-time U23 national track competitor, and of course, our borrowed metal steeds. Thank you to Alkek's folks on both counts.

[As I write this blog entry, I'm listening to Beastie Boys, Paul's Boutique, Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun. I just want you to know that, because it is really have an effect on the direction this entry is going . . . Son of a bitch gettin' rich!]

Anyway, we did the Friday night races. For the first two races, I had on the wrong cassette (my combination was a 49/17). I felt like a squirrel on speed, I was probably spinning at about 145 rpm trying to stay in the pack. I didn't stay in very long. Try again.

On Saturday, though, I had the right gearing. In the 10 lap scratch race, I barely missed a podium spot, with a hard fought 4th place. In the miss and out, I was robbed from what was a sure victory, since I know how to hold a wheel and certainly come across one. I was pulled and finished 5th place. Oh well! It was great fun.

In the attached fotos, you will see me sporting Sir Stefan's gallantry, as my precious Wooly kit was afraid of getting carved up on the track surface. You will note, however, that our famosity is well known even in Houston, where I left hearing the pleas of the promoter: "SirChris, thank you for coming, but next time, please wear your Wooly Kit."

That is all for now.