Written by: Lauren Jacobsen

I’ve been working out in peak and race phase of training. Still not up to full throttle yet for several months, but it is looking promising. Again, more power gained this year over last, and we have not maximized my efforts yet.

In the meantime, my coach, you know and love him; “Coach Meat”, has me racing crits for fitness. I’d rather slug down some 409 all-purpose cleaner, but I remain obedient and sign up for the race. You know crits are not my favorite thing, but my coach insists on the fitness. I beg, I plead, I am sure there’s some other way, but all my whining just falls on deaf ears. What am I really expecting? Here’s a guy who when I split my shin open after I Peter Pan’d off the weight bench while doing some single leg jumps, insisted I finish the work out before seeking out medical attention. Hey, if it ain’t broke, you get back on and finish your workout. However, I reminded him necrotic skin is much harder to stitch, so he let me stop.

As far as the crits, each and every race is a fight to stay up on two wheels and racing last weekend was no exception.

Once again I was almost taken out 4 times in one race by the overly anxious and completely unskilled. My opinion is you should have to take Racer’s Ed. I mean you can’t drive a car on the road even 5 mph without Drivers Ed, so why do we race 20-30 mph without some sort of competency test? I’m sure most would be sent home to finish their homework, since they have not even reached their sixteenth birthday.

These women… uh girls, whatever, cannot corner and hold a line. Correction, they can’t even hold a straight line! It’s chop and drop all over the course only it isn’t some uber “up yours” race strategy; it’s just pure inability.

Protecting my front wheel becomes my ONLY goal.
Yeah, no, there’s no wheel to follow cause they swing way out into the middle of the turn headed I don’t know where, Texas maybe? What ARE they looking at when they corner? Or, they are in the middle of the pack on the outside and literally cut across in front of you.

I yell, I shout, I tell them to get out, but they have absolutely no idea why.
At the end of the race, they think they have done a great job.

If only they knew. Job not even remotely well done.

Go learn to ride your bike, I’ve given up enough of my hide on the asphalt thank you.