Monthly Archives: September 2011

The best way to start this post is with a few quotes from some legendary bike racers, spoken mere minutes after the finish of the 2011 NCNCA Criterium Championships.

“I have to say, Rand, I don’t like your hairstyles, but I like the way you race. Congratulations on the win.”
- Eric Wohlberg

“Well, since there are no podium girls…would you like me to give you kisses instead?”
- Ivan Dominguez

They say a picture is worth a thousand words so — in spite of my inexorable desire to write at length — I’ll shut up for a brief moment and let the imagery speak for itself.

(Photo Credit: Etienne Fontan)

The smile itself speaks volumes. It’s the smile of a guy making his dream a reality. It’s also the smile of a man thankful to everyone who supported him in doing so.

And now, for the thousands of words. I can’t help myself.

Last Sunday afternoon, I overcame an entire season of near-misses, implosions, botchings, and f*&kups and finally won a race that people care about: the 2011 Northern California/Nevada Criterium Championships.

How did we get here? Last time I posted, I was busy assuring my readers that I would blow my Folsom Cyclebration Omnium lead in the final event; now, I’m posting a photograph of me — arms aloft and a smile nearly as wide as my gap to the field — winning a somewhat important bike race, at least by my standards. Two days after the fact, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. Let’s walk through the past two weeks together and try to figure out how this could happen, shall we?

I’ll start by saying that I did not botch the Folsom Cyclebration as most of us anticipated. In fact, I played the final day’s circuit race conservatively and intelligently — quite out of character for me — and saved my legs for a bunch sprint. Ultimately, my 6th place finish was enough to secure the Omnium and with it a sizable cash prize.

Now, I’ve heard an urban legend that once you eat human flesh, you become hopelessly addicted; naturally, I’m going to liken bike racing to cannibalism and say that my small taste of a truly lucrative victory in Folsom — even if only a cumulative one — changed the way I approached the Criterium Championship event and ultimately led to my upset victory.

The 2011 NCNCA Championship Criterium was held in downtown Oakland on one of the more demanding courses we face each year. This course is punctuated by a short climb on the front straightaway and a tight chicane on the back side, all wrapped in pavement so rough it makes the surface of the moon look smoother than Levi Leipheimer’s head.

For reasons unknown to everyone in attendance, the field was inordinately strong: Rahsaan Bahati (Pista Palace), Ivan Dominguez (“Retired,” ex-Toyota United, ex-Fuji Servetto, ex-Rock Racing), Andy Jacques-Maynes (Bissell), Roman Kilun (Kenda), Chuck Hutcheson (McGuire) and Kirk Carlsen (Garmin – Cervelo) were notable additions to the usual cadre of NorCal powerhouses.

In order to prepare myself to engage this “Ocean’s Eleven” cast of characters, I elected to undertake one of those fabled “race warmups.” Hence, I decided to enter the W/1/2/3 race*.

(Photo Credit: Alden Tanaka)

That mullet-vector is a good indication of how fast our local W/1/2/3 racers are, by the way. I pity the fool who has to race against these ladies, having now done so myself. Shortly after I was dropped from the race, Vanessa Drigo (Vanderkitten) sprinted for the W/1/2/3 Championship title — Congratulations, Vanessa!

As it turns out, it was a good thing that I warmed up during the women’s race, because the P/1/2 event started fast — according to a mid-race assessment by Rainer Schaefer (Mikes Bikes), “holy s*&t, this is fast as f*&k!”  — and it stayed that way for the entirety. It’s been said that the 2011 race was averaging three miles per hour faster than usual on the uphill finish-line straight, and it certainly felt that way.

Now, if there’s one truism in bike racing, it’s that high speeds and enormous potholes are bad news for high-end racing wheels. Sure enough, over the course of the race, I managed to crack both of my carbon wheels on some gargantuan holes in the Oakland pavement. Thankfully, Josh Geizsler (mechanic for Williams Cycling) was there for some wheel support.

(Photo Credit: Yukie Nakamura)

Thanks Josh! Usually you have to pay double for that kind of “support.”

Throughout the race, the announcer had been updating us about the status of a late-race crowd prime, which was to be contested with six laps remaining. By the time I re-entered the race from my second mechanical, at 11 laps to go, the field had dwindled to about 25 racers while the crowd prime had grown inversely to $306.

Like the metaphorical cannibal, I wanted that money; I was addicted. I wanted it badly enough to make some rather aggressive attacks and some rather contorted facial expressions:

(Photo Credit: Dale Tapley)

It was with that look on my face that I attacked at 8 laps to go. It was also with that same look that I dispatched with my breakaway companions at 6 1/2 laps remaining to claim the large sum of money alone. Bike racing cannibalism, you see? I was racing my bike for the money, riding off the front solo with six laps remaining in one of the most important criteriums of the year. It was not tactically brilliant, it was a ballsy maneuver intended to net me a large sum of money.

And then, the moment I crossed the line to take this intermediate prize…well, that was the crux of the race. That very moment was described so aptly by spectator Rome Imari Mubarak that I’ll transcribe his words directly.

“after you went for the prime…I saw that twitch and the one look back at the field pedaling in the distance..when you looked forward again, crunching down into your tiger-paw hidden dragon TT pose, I knew you were all in and going for it! ’99 southdon’t look back’ attitude!!! BigUp Rand! Major Motion Cycling thanks you for putting on a great performance!!”

He’s absolutely right. I saw that the field was hesitating, that I had a several second gap still, and I knew that I really wanted to win the championship title — more than I had wanted that $306 just a few seconds before — even if it meant I had to ride the next six laps alone with a star-studded field in hot pursuit. 95% of the time, this is the entirely wrong way to win a bike race, and I’ve got the 2nd Place race resume to prove it. However, the stars aligned: my legs were primed, the heckling was sublime, and somewhere inside, I knew it was time to really go for it. Look at the perverse, shit-eating grin on my face as I fully commit to an ill-advised attempt at a solo win from WAY TOO FAR OUT:

(Photo Credit: Etienne Fontan)

Why am I smiling? It’s possible I have several screws loose. It’s also possible that I’m smiling because everything was perfect in that moment: my legs felt fast in spite of the pain, I love a good late-race breakaway, I love a cheering crowd, and I love a technical race course. I had nothing left to lose — I already made $306 — and I had everything to gain. It was perfect, and I couldn’t contain my elation.

This is where I have to break away from my usual nonchalant, irreverent character and thank absolutely everyone who has ever supported me in a bike race: family, friends, teammates, sponsors, blog readers, photographers, and random spectators. Was I driven to win by my competitive nature? Of course…that’s why we all line up each weekend. However, more than that, I was driven to win because of the incredible support from the crowd, both those present and those who support me from afar.

(Photo Credit: Dale Tapley)

Each lap, the cheers grew louder and my resolve not to let everyone down grew stronger. I believed I could stay away, but it was a calculated, guarded hope tainted by the knowledge of how much I was hurting and by my history of faltering in the critical portions of races this year.

I didn’t falter this time.

My legs held out, the field hesitated**, and I crossed the finish line with plenty of room for my admittedly giddy victory salute. I was greeted shortly thereafter by Velopromo Rick, a co-promoter of countless races, a fixture in the NorCal scene and one of my favorite people in the world.

That photograph is an exemplar of how grateful I am for all of you who enjoy watching me race, enjoy reading the blog, and who heckle the living shit out of me as a consequence. Thank you all for a great 2011 road season!

Already, a friend of mine has taken it upon himself to design my “Big Pink” themed Championship Jersey.

(Designed by Lee Slone)

Now that’s gonna look good in all the local races next season.

And now, with ‘cross season gearing up, I implore you all to sit down with a beer or three and write out some searing, incisive, witty things to scream at me (and my fellow racers) in the upcoming cyclocross events.

See you soon!

*This isn’t technically illegal, as I only rode with the W/1/2/3s during their neutral laps from a harrowing crash involving Mary Maroon (Webcor). Get better soon, Mary!

**I heard that race favorite Bahati crashed hard in the final lap, and I’m hoping that he’s alright. Here’s to a speedy recovery!

For some godawful reason, I opted to race the Folsom Cyclebration this weekend, which involved an ITT this morning, a crit this evening, and a circuit race tomorrow afternoon.

Now, it has come to my attention that some of you doubt the validity of my claims that I prepare for races by drinking beer and eating fattening foods; in order to prove that I’m not making this up, I joined a few local standout racers in Berkeley last night. I don’t want to drop names, but those riders were Tyler Brandt (Cal Giant), Andy Goessling (Firefighters Somethingorother), Roman Kilun (Kenda PRO CYCLING), and Pat Briggs (Yahoo?). Oh yeah, and Tyler’s sister.

Thankfully, Tyler and Andy each took it upon himself to document the occasion.

There you have it: proof that I’m a POS bike racer. From two angles. I’m pretty sure that’ll turn into a 3D image if you cross your eyes or look at it in an Imax theater or something.

Sadly, I did not win the ITT in spite of my ever-nutritious hops and sausage dietary plan. I was third, one second behind Craig Roemer (Specialized) and about 20 seconds behind Justin Rossi (Marc Pro - Strava). That was just fine with me.

What position do you think I placed in the crit a few hours later?

Regardless of the outcome of that poll, the bottom line is that I’m now leading the omnium standings heading into tomorrow’s circuit race. I’m going to try as hard as I can not to blow it, so please wish me luck.

This past month, I’ve been completely stricken with a disease: cyclocross fever. Sure, Last year I made a brief foray into the absurdity that envelops cyclocross, but this year it’s going to be a much larger part of my life. Thanks to Matt McNamara and Sterling Sports, I’m going to be racing a full season of ‘cross, and words cannot describe how stoked I am. I’m like, surfer dude at Mavericks stoked, brah.

Allow me to share with you an example of just how excited I have become for the 2011 ‘cross season, and how my excitement has jeopardized the health, safety, and financial well-being of my friends.

Last Wednesday afternoon, I scheduled an urban road ride with my good friends Justin Fraga (a former crit donkey turned freeride MTB broseph, who quite recently uttered the line “yeah, broheim, but I bet I can rail a berm better than you” in casual conversation) and Pedro Brown (who works for the City of SF to develop better bicycle transportation and is responsible for designing one of the most absurdly technical, speed-bump-filled crit courses known to man).

My intention was to take Justin and Pedro up a short, steep, eucalyptus-shrouded climb through the hills between Twin Peaks and UCSF’s Parnassus campus, punctuated by a short diversion onto a few singletrack, switchbacked trails through the forest in the spirit of the upcoming ‘cross season.

It looked like this up there, as it almost always does.

What I did not anticipate was the following equation:

Heavy Fog + Eucalyptus Forest = Wicked Muddy Trails               (1)

Here are a few images of the mess that ensued.

Once we crested the singletrack climb, we were faced with a decision: retrace our steps through the quagmire or head down a paved bike path into unknown territory. Pedro took initiative and bombed straight down the bike path, only to find a heavy steel chain slung across its width just around a bend. In spite of a valiant attempt at a bunny hop, Pedro was stopped mid-air when his SRAM Red chainring latched onto the hurdle; as you can imagine, he was launched straight over his bars faster than Trafton with a traffic cone caught in his front wheel. Sadly, I was not rolling video for that one.

After we had all navigated the chain crossing, we veered left onto an unmarked, muddy jeep trail that led us to a hilltop water tank.

It was here that things “got real,” as the kids are saying nowadays. One other thing I hadn’t considered prior to this ride is that — for rides involving Justin or Pedro — the following holds true.

d(testosterone)/dt = cNS                                             (2)

where c is the obligatory scientific fudge factor, N is the number of brosephs present, and S is the Stupidity Quotient, which is always a positive value. Anyway, after circumnavigating the water tank, the trail terminated at the precipice of what I’ll refer to as a cliff, for lack of a better word.

Pedro, seemingly dissatisfied with the amount of abuse his body and his drivetrain had received thus far, didn’t hesitate for one moment. He simply glanced over the edge, said, “I guess this is the way down,” and prepared to huck his carbon fiber road bike over the edge of this -45° angled, mud- and grass-covered cliff with his own body as a hapless passenger. Naturally, I began to record the event on video; if a friend of yours is about to severely injure himself, you might as well get it on tape. [Ed. note: mothers and young children, I apologize for the expletives in the video.]

Now, the video is admittedly terrible, and it certainly doesn’t do justice to the severity of the wet, slippery, muddy, grassy, root-riddled grade Pedro is descending. However, in spite of the poor quality of the visuals, the color commentary by Justin and I is what really drives the video. Additionally, the following exchange at the very end is priceless:

Pedro: [distantly, as he's about 200 ft below us] “You guys comin’?”

Justin: [resigned] OK, f*&k this. [Rustling as Justin moves his bike into position.]

Me: [incredulous] “You gotta be kidding me…”

Justin: “Well, he did it!”

And that is how I found myself doing the stupidest thing I’ve ever done on a bike, all in the name of manhood and the impending CX season. It was a terrifying, brakeless, control-less ride with one good head-over-heels tumble. I made it down alive and relatively unscathed, with only a few chainring cuts on my leg to show for it. Justin completed the descent with only a large laceration on his palm.

Pedro was not in such good shape.

In the end, it was all worth it…to me, at least. I’m not the one with a second kneecap, a broken chain, a broken derailleur, and a broken frame. However, it was his idea so I don’t even feel bad.

I would like to point out that Pedro — the mastermind of this endeavor — is the guy whose job it is to design San Francisco’s bike routes. Bike commuters beware!

Suffice to say, my lust for riding through mud and crashing on bikes that resemble road bikes was only heightened by this ride, and I can’t wait for my CX season to begin.

Too bad I have this pesky circuit race to attend tomorrow. See y’all roadies there! Does anyone want to start betting on how I’m going to lose the omnium lead?

It’s time to get back to the basics. I’ve spent far too long this past month worrying about things that had nothing to do with what I do best*, nor what I should be worrying about: blogging.

I have a fun story to write about from this afternoon. It’s possible I’ll post it this evening, but I make no guarantees. Suffice to say, it involves road bikes, thick mud, blood and bravado. As I look forward to returning to the world of vigorous blogging, so should you look forward to the upcoming adventurous post.

However, in the interim, here is a new “race report” that I threw together this evening as a requirement for my team. It’s wordy, likely peppered with grammatical errors and typos, and somewhat redundant for those of you who read this blog frequently. Whatever. It’s a post. Like many a second place finish, I’ll take what I can get.

See you all soon (on the internet)!

———————–

Subject: Rand’s 2011 P/1/2 Race Reports. Yeah, it’s quite plural.

Alto Velo,

It is with great embarrassment that I finally get around to posting to this list. You see, I’m about thirty-five races behind in my race-reporting duties; in order to get me to write, my team manager Billy Crane has become quite persuasive. He’s been withholding reimbursement money.

Why have I been slacking? Well, in two words: the internet and girls. Typically not at the same time, but who’s checking?

Now, I simply cannot write all the race reports from this year, but that’s a good thing because it means I have a lot of top placings to write about. In fact, I’ve finished inside the top-five seventeen times thus far, and still five races remain in the 2011 road season.

Now, over the course of this season, I’ve become known amongst my P/1/2 competitors as “Second Place,” which is a pretty obvious nickname for people like Cadel and I. I’ve come in second six times this season, which means I’m clearly doing something wrong.

Thus, I’ve decided to take a retrospective look at each of my six second places, give a brief description of the event, and then delineate what I did wrong. I’m hoping that this will do two things: 1. help you and I race better in the future, and 2. exorcise my second place demons for eternity.

So here we go.

2nd Place #1: Cal Aggie Crit (January 29, 2011)
One Word for the F*&k-up: Misunderestimation

I showed up to the Cal Aggie Crit — held on the Land Park Crit course — with a fierce desire to de-testicl-ify my competitors. My intention was to do so by attacking with reckless abandon, tactically emasculating whatever breakaway partners I might have, and winning. It’s a simple formula. I did a really good job at the first part, and found myself off the front with Keith Hillier (Marc Pro – Strava), Evan Huffman (Cal Giant) and Adam Switters (Harley Davidson) in short order. Now, look at that list of riders. Do you see a sprinter there? I sure as hell don’t. I mean, to my knowledge, Huffman’s fastest sprint ever was the time he ran away from a group of girls at a high school dance. Hillier races about as aggressively as his baby-faced countenance implies, and is far better-suited to triathlons. Finally, Switters is skinnier than a cocaine-era Lohan forearm and the last time I saw him win a sprint, it was a Junior 15-16 race. I was pretty confident. Our four-man breakaway stayed away to the finish on this slippery, misty, mid-winter race. Heading through the final corner, I lined myself up in third wheel behind Huffman and Hilier. THAT WAS MY MISTAKE. I happily gave Switters my wheel, assuming he was no threat, and started my kick to the line already preparing my victory salute. That’s when Switters came up alongside me, glanced at me, then clicked up a gear with 50m to go and showed me the victory salute HE’D been preparing for the whole last lap. Never, ever, EVER assume things you don’t know about your competitors. You will lose just like me.

2nd Place #2: The Easter Classic Criterium (April 24, 2011)
One Word for the F*&k-up: Desperation

This race is absurd, and I love it for its absurdity. It’s held on part of the Early Bird Criterium course and consists of two hairpins and a metric shit-ton of wind. It’s like the Snelling RR for fat, slow, undertrained crit-donkeys like me. As you can imagine from a race in which you’re either cornering around a hairpin turn or dodging the square-edged curb in the gutter the entire time, this race blew apart pretty quickly. Heading into the final few laps, the lead group was pretty intense: our favorite should-be triathlete Keith Hillier (Marc Pro – Strava), Eric Wohlberg (Form Fitness p/b Hella Ex-Pro Cyclists from Canada), Steve Reaney (Cal Giant), Rainer Schaefer (Mike’s Bikes), Kirk Carlsen (Garmin – Chipotle) and me. Reaney seemed to enjoy hitting the corners as hard as he could — I think he fancies himself the second coming of Dave McCook –  which frequently formed gaps in this “breakaway.” With five laps remaining, and Reaney smugly enjoying one of the aforementioned “handling skills gaps,” I attacked the other riders in the gutter and made it across to Cal Giant’s aging but still fast-as-balls captain. I proceeded to take the hardest pulls I could possibly take, fearful that former Canadian National Champion TTist Wohlberg and former Redlands Young Rider winner Carlsen would be hot on our heels. THAT WAS MY MISTAKE. I was so desperate to ensure that we stayed away from the other big-name riders behind, I forgot that I still had to beat one of the fastest riders this district has seen in years. Heading to the line, I was straight-up screwed in any sense of the word you can imagine. In spite of my attempts to sneak around Steve in the four inches of gutter he allowed me downwind, I was beaten soundly. Would I have won had I not been so desperate and foolish with my pulls? Probably not; however, I never gave myself that chance. Idiot.

2nd Place #3: Watsonville Criterium (July 16, 2011)
One Word for the F*&k-up: Timing

The technical Watsonville Criterium is my Pebble Beach; my Wimbledon; my Daytona. I haven’t finished outside the top three at the Watsonville Crit in half a decade. It’s everything I have ever wanted in a criterium course, and I imagine the feelings I have toward this race are akin to those one feels just before he proposes. Having won the event the year before — out of a three man break consisting of Steve Reaney (Cal Giant) and his teammate Jared Barrilleaux — I was under a bit of pressure to perform. Three laps into the event, I was off the front with my teammate John Wilk, James Mattis and Steve Reaney (both Cal Giant). Shortly thereafter, Reaney and I had dispatched of our respective teammates, and the true grudge match had begun: Steve Reaney vs. Rand Miller, a pay-per-view special (for the roughly 16 spectators on course). Steve had me against the ropes almost instantly, as he had decided to attack up the small hill on the course once per lap, every lap. I was doing everything I could to hang on, but I was about to crack, and Steve knew it. I didn’t crack, I recovered, and subsequently Steve and I lapped the field twice. On the second of those lappings, I became aware that Steve was vulnerable. When I attacked, it took Reaney a moment to respond, and he was opening gaps on the two hairpin corners on course. I had him up against the ropes a bit, now, and I didn’t take full advantage. THAT WAS MY MISTAKE. Instead, I hesitated. We lapped the field again together, bestowing Reaney a few teammates with whom he could work. With one lap to go, I attacked Reaney over the hill (and far away), maintained a gap through the most technical parts of the course, and was caught with one straightaway to go. My arch nemesis beat me soundly in the ensuing drag race to the line.

2nd Place #4: Albany Criterium (July 17, 2011)
One Word for the F*&k-up: See Above

See Above. This race was almost an exact replica of the previous day. Seriously. Including the lapping-of-the-field bit and the last lap attack.

2nd Place #5: CCCX Circuit Race #infinity (July 30, 2011)
One Word for the F*&K-up: Commitment

Actually, it’s a lack of commitment. Among those who know me, it’s no secret that I am not a very good athlete. I don’t ride more than about three hours during the week, I eat food that even obese people would turn away, and I drink far more beer in one month than the entire Sierra Nevada Pro Cycling Team drank in the three or four seasons they existed. This lifestyle is all fun and games until I actually realize that I’m losing bike races because of it. THAT IS MY MISTAKE. On the day of the CCCX Circuit Race in question, this lack of commitment to the sport we all love became brutally apparent on the rugged roads of Fort Ord. Let me back up. I started the day with a HCTT up Mt. Diablo at 8am, and I was supremely proud of my effort. I climbed faster than I have in years and placed 5th, just behind true climbers like Cal Giant’s Evan Huffman and Nate Wilson, Chris Phipps (Thirsty Bear) and (of course) Nate English (Yahoo?).  I then drove down to Monterey and proceeded to launch myself hubris-long off the front on the very first lap of the nine-lap, 90-minute, hilly, windy event. With me was Metromint’s Ethan Atkins, a notable and venerable rider (assuming he doesn’t crash himself out like he did at University RR, wink wink). I drilled it. I was riding so hard, I looked behind me in one of the many headwind sections of the course to see Atkins literally foaming at the mouth. “Dude, Rand, don’t drop me. You’re gonna win this. Just don’t drop me!” he feebly exclaimed through hyperventilations. I had won the race. All I had to do was not blow it.

I blew it.

With two laps to go, my legs gave out entirely. “Implosion” doesn’t even come close to describing the event. By one lap to go, my vision began to blur, my speech began to slur, and it was all I could do to exclaim feebly, “Dude, Ethan, don’t drop me. You’re gonna win this. Just don’t drop me!” Ah, how the tables had turned. I nearly fell off my bike trying to hold Ethan’s merciful wheel as he nursed me to the finish line just ahead of the chasing pack. His victory salute looked glorious, or at least I assume it did. I don’t remember crossing the finish line. If I trained like a dedicated athlete, I think I would have won. If I passed on just a few beers here and there, I think I would have won. If I wasn’t so hopelessly addicted to Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, I might have won. Instead, I was beaten by a rider who is committed to the sport — even though he’s an overworked PhD student like me — and who deserved that win because of it.

2nd Place #6: Strawberry Crown Criterium (August 6, 2011)
One Word for the F*&k-up: Reaney

This technical downtown race, also held in Watsonville, was one of the higher-profile races on the NCNCA calendar. The field was replete with some of the more talented teams and racers in the nation, Dave Towle was announcing, and the title sponsor of the event was none other than the California Giant Strawberry Farms. Cal Giant was (understandably) fielding their A Team at this event, which meant that my arch nemesis Steve Reaney was in the hunt for the win. Midway through the race, Steve and I escaped from the field together — it was Watsonville Crit deja vu. However, our move was brought back by the tireless legs of Dan Ramsay (Full Circle), who was working for his highlight sprinter Ricardo Escuela. Neither of us was content with our efforts thus far, so with seven laps remaining Reaney and I struck out yet again; this time, our move stuck to the finish. Never before this season have my legs felt so effortlessly amazing. Never before has my head felt so clear. I knew exactly what I had to do, and better yet, I knew I had the legs to beat Reaney in the finale. Reaney was not cornering quite as quickly as I was through the most technical part of the course, and I knew I could use that to my advantage. Heading into this technical chicane on the final lap, Reaney looked behind him to judge our gap over the hard-charging field; I timed my attack to perfection. Just as he turned his head back, I sprinted as hard as I could toward the oncoming right-left-left corner combination. I earned a sliver of a gap for my efforts and cornering bravado, but I thought it might be enough for the upset victory. Alas, even with a several bike-length advantage coming out of the final corner at about 200m, Reaney powered by me and took the win. Again. What was my mistake? Being a Category 1 cyclist in the NCNCA during the Steve Reaney era. THAT WAS MY MISTAKE. I did everything right, and I’m still not good enough to win. I can take solace in knowing that I was close, I suppose, but that’s little consolation.

And so, my season is near a close, and my race resume is overwhelmed by underwhelming performances. In all likelihood, I’ll get yet another second place before the season is out, and I’ll upload a brief addendum to this tome accordingly.

Until then, I raise a bottle of IPA to you, Alto Velo and all our sponsors: Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting me (and my P/1/2 compatriots), and please heckle me in the upcoming races.

Rand

*That’s a sad commentary.