Three Days Until the Rasputitsa

Good Luck, Dubstoevsky!

We are three days away from our own little North American "Hell of the Northeast Kingdom" (nod to the Paris-Roubaix moniker "Hell of the North"). The Rasputitsa draws nigh. We're hearing now that there's a 50% or better chance of rain on race day. That's fitting. Who wants a Rasputitsa that's 65 degrees and sunny? Not this mad shad.

Here's the thing. Having ridden through January and February, through bitter cold and wind, through sleet and rain, and having EMBRACED those conditions, I am physically and emotionally prepared for whatever Saturday brings. I hope it's crappy, actually. That will separate a lot of riders right there. Maybe everyone who is participating has been, like me, riding throughout the winter. Then again, maybe not. Maybe half of them have just started training. For a few, the Rasputitsa could be one of the first rides of their season. That's my edge.

It's banal to say but still true that the road conditions will pretty much dictate how the whole thing unfolds. If conditions are really bad and sloppy then luck and endurance will play a big role. But if most of the roads are reasonably passable, maybe hard-packed and not that wet, then the advantage should go to those with race fitness and skill.

But really, the competition isn't with other riders but with oneself. In the end, I just want to have ridden well and to feel good about my role in this inaugural event. My team mate I-ward says that he wants to not crash, not get hurt, and to finish the race. I can embrace that. Bon velo!

Confronting I-self

Special greetings and salutations to good friend SF in Cape Town, South Africa, international style. Sleep out!

And to Scrodicus who, though waylaid by misfortune, remains an inspiration for these wordy indulgences. Love Ventoux Calls, Nature Boy.