Cat 6 - 4.20.12

I just entered and successfully won a Cat 6 race. The feeling is incredible, let me share the details.

What started out as a routine commute shortly became an exhilarating fight for honor and timeless bragging rights. A beautiful Friday morning in the early Spring with perfectly blue skies and refreshing 50F mixed with a slight breeze.
Contestant #1, me, Subrosa Malum "fixie" (sadly with a front brake and a Knog Nerd speedometer, both brutally murdering the clean lines of a simple bike), hipster jeans, handmade C2D t-shirt, Nike Hi-tops. Contestant#2, a brightly colored fancy Trak road bike (presumably carbon with amazingly flat shaped wide tubing, big lettering, wild red and white colors, super deep carbon rims with lots of writing), a matching helmet painfully clashing with perfectly creased khakis carefully wrapped at the ankle with a neon green band as to not dirty them with the filth of chain and grease, checkered Brooks Brother shirt.

 This is what happened. It started out as a simple easy ride for me as I left my neighborhood. I decided that this gorgeous morning I'm not in a rush and I will enjoy the refreshing wind, sit up straight and casually pedal to my destination. About a third into my commute and with about 3 miles to go I decided that even that pace was a bit brisk, so I slowed my steed to a gingerly 10-12mph, almost crawling - that is when I first spotted my opponent (unbeknownst to me). Even at this delicate pace I was quickly gaining on the Contestant #2. I thought nothing of it. Shortly I was just about 10 feet behind the Business fella and as the perfectly smooth Kent Ave two way bike lane allows, I went for the pass. Boosting my speed to incredible 14mph and allowing at least 4 feet of passing room to the right of me as to not frighten anyone I casually bobbed by.

 And that's when it happened. To my surprise I heard a very tender yet threatening "Affffsssshole" whispers under ones breath. I must have been hearing things. The uneventful and thrill less pass was over as I continued to give myself a pep talk how "I know you're very hungry, but you have to be good, no breakfast sandwich this morning, just have oatmeal with some fruit and a large coffee, but for lunch you can have something delicious......" - then ZOOM! #2 passes me very rapidly, only within a foot of me, all while making a strange and unexpected semi-angry eye contact with me. Hmmm. Being a witty prick, my immediate reaction to this weird move was a vocal "Ooooooh snap! So I guess its a race huh?" No reply, #2 just tucked in, his Brooks Brothers shirt straining to stay belted and started gaining ground. "Not on my watch" I said loud enough for him to hear. And off we went.

What followed next was 3 wicked miles littered with a series of passes and pole position changes, often dangerous,  at speeds exceeding but not limited to 24mph -  which is pretty breakneck considering that all the other commuters we kept passing rapidly were moving at my earlier casual  speed of about 12. Eventually he got out of his seat, so I had to get out of my seat as well and just go balls out. This was for the honor, this was for the glory - I knew I would be making a post about this and I knew that it wouldn't be as heroic if the outcome was him leaving me in the dust. As my final and victorious pass took place, #2 let out a second incredibly unsportsmanlike "Deeekhead" signaling his defeat. I won. With about a 1/4 mile left on the Flushing Ave straight my opponent dropped back embarrassingly. He stood no chance. Not on my watch.

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