This crash ranks pretty high on the dipshit scale. I somehow managed to clip my 23" wide handlebars on a tree that was 36" away from the tree on the other side of the trail. It sure was a doosey... I flew over the bars and assumed the fetal position lest I get clipped by the chasing pack of 6 fast guys. After I felt safe, I jumped back to my bike to survey the damage and remove my bars from Don's wheel. You see, Don was right behind me and assumed I would be able to ride my bike. Silly boy.
Reinstall chain and commence chase. I must have been pretty close to making the bride but dug pretty deep to get there and had to recover a bit. Never quite made it and started to slow a bit on lap 3 to make sure I could have a strong finish. I ended just over 3 minutes off wining pace, set by none other than Semi-Pro Don. If I hadn't dropped my chain, I totally would have been there. I think.
I was pleased with my effort and wished I had the data. You see, the bar mount for the head unit worked it's way loose in the crash and did a number on the connector, rendering the unit worthless for race data. At least it still works.
So after a faster than usual ceremony, I talked the crew into a post race dinner. What else? Mexican. Two important things were discussed:
(1)You can't really consider yourself a mountain biker if you don't at least want Mexican after a race or even ride.
(2)Tortilla chips and salsa. You're generally hungry after a race, and chips are a great form of Instant Gratification.
-the ATM
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