'nana one.

5am in Hood River looks like 5am anywhere else. Except, we're an extra hour from anywhere else. That being said, dragging my patient spouse out of bed at an hour created solely for optimal invertebrate coitus (slug sex) was a challenge. But she drove with me to a mountain lake in the coast range without complaining. All she asked was for enough coffee to send a chunk of granite into cardiac arrest. Not only that, she drove a neutral support van so that I could do 2 PIRs for free! All this on our 17th wedding anniversary. She deserves plenty of fancy shoes for this!
But I digress! I am here to write about both my races Banana Belt #1.
Both my races, you ask? Yes. Dammit. Both of them.
I figured racing the 1-2 race before the Masters 1-2-3 would be an excellent warmup and allow me to virtually sail away from my frozen competitors that afternoon. Well, I was wrong to a point, but I got some phenomenal training in nonetheless.

Race #1 (Cat 1-2): Lining up for a race in which you have no intention of doing any work whatsoever is liberating beyond belief, my friends! Absolutely one of the most fun bike races I've ever done. Once, while crossing the dam at warp speed while inahaling slugs basking in the morning's afterglow, I turned to the K-Man and said "man, this is so cool!".
He looked at me as if a trap door in my forehead had opened and gnomes were issuing forth a Wagnerian chorus....
But I digress again!
Attacks? Let 'em go! Silly covering of attempted breaks? Whatever dude! I simply did not care! The most work I did for 2.5 hours was to tell some guy his number was missing a pin. And I bunnyhopped some junior's head, ensuring a carefree high school graduation.
I was a virtual mid-pack welfare queen. King. Whatever.
You'd think that would get my legs nice and warm for the next event.....

Masters 1-2-3: Lined up with my team mates and had a signifiantly different attitude about this one. We wanted to win and I was ready to make it happen. Various attacks were launched from the gun, but when it was my turn and I gunned the guns, my quads felt like drumsticks being gnawed to pieces by grandpa on Thanksgiving. I realized all I could do for the rest of the laps was to race negatively and cover breaks as best I could. Every time we hit the big hill, I hung on for dear life, moving to the front so I could drift back and not lose contact.
In my delusional fog, I vaguely remember somebody in green turning sideways at about 27 mph and attempting to infuse his torso with my drivetrain. I nipped this event in the bud and stayed upright by elbowing him away.
At least I remembered to eat and drink. My teammate was up the road for about 3 laps; between visions of headless bedouins hearding goats on the bottom of the sea and more thanksgiving daydreams, I managed to help keep him out there.
How I stuck on the last hill without getting completely shelled is beyond me. How I managed to do a decent job in the final sprint is all thanks to some hard work this winter.......

Banana Belt is an excellent race and for some indescribably sick reason, I am looking forward to the next one.