Saint Cloud - September 23rd. Bike breaks before race ending the dream before it can start. Warm day. Doom wins rigged chili cook-off.
Orono - September 30th. First actual race on rainy day. Very muddy which leads me to skip practice lap so as to not get too dirty. Doom in attendance without chili. Race volunteer wipes off "muddy" number and then springs for coffee.
Lake Rebecca - October 7th. Leaves on ground give impression that it's fallish. It's 88 degrees, pea soup humid with a negative breeze. No sign of Singletrack Rosenberg or Doom.
Boom Island -October 14th. Donut hand-up and the Pyramid Of Pain In The Ass. I should have done better on this course but I didn't. I can see I have enough clothes on for 20 below.
Powderhorn -October 21st. Big run-up/ride-up/crawl-up pounds the pee-pee out of me. Pizza and donuts, who could ask for anything more. Homie Fall Fest leaves the Chesterfield Factory Team shorthanded. Rosenberg breaks 30 year old chain and gets 86ed by Geno. Doom stays home to clean gutters.
Northfield - October 28th. DFL. Kinda rolls off your lips, don't it? Fell and noggin was point of impact which produced wretched sound of Spice Girls in my head. Hollywood shows his mellow side to the officials. I was hot in my mumu and you bitches know it.
Ham Lake - November 3rd. I keep pastries in the wheel pit. Smores and tasteless comments from Mr Peacock Groove. Rosenberg can't make race because of work responsibilities. He opens a mean can of pudding. Race is held at a bible camp so I cut the swearing down by 7%.
National Sports Center - November 4th. Answer cell phone during the race. It's Homme asking for a score update on the Packer game. Packer fans, huh Mr Cullen? Muddy ditch gives roadies something else to bitch about.
Rum River - November 11th. J-E-T-S, JETS, JETS, JETS. Charming run-up which develops a large hole that we fix by jamming a soccer ball in to and covering with leaves. Gaines family finally brings family dog to a race which makes the long drive to Milaca worth it.
State Championship - November 17th. It's clear from the start that Rosenberg's biorhythms are off and he can't escape the dreaded ass crack. My outfit for the race is a work of art. I ring my cowbell like a mf leading Teresa Moriarty to gently touch my cheek one lap and threaten to take it away from me the next. Doom family makes a strong showing. I give Mrs a kiss at the run-up. Bike racing wouldn't be any fun without her.


