Some bike race I did bad at.

Ye Olde Roade King Trucke Stoppe

After the Salmon Arm adventure where my car broke down and I got a $200 speeding ticket on the drive home, I went out to Edmonton to participate in the Velocity Stage Race.

Its a great event and I really like the road race because its pancake flat, for the most part, and usually ends in a sprint, which is better if you’re me and can’t, you know, ride a bike up a hill.

There was also a time trial and a criterium to be enjoyed, too. So a real jam packed weekend. The first race of the season is always an exciting one because you still have that delusion where you think you might be fast(er).

My relationship with these things is interesting.

Hunger is the mother of invention

I rolled out there with Crash Cullingham who mounted his cleats to some brand new Sidis the night we arrived. He was just going to jump on his bike and test ’em out in the time trial. Seemed like as good an idea as any to me. He was going first as he’s a 1/2 and, of course, we were rushing around to get him there in that typical chaos that can often occur before these things. He ran down to get his sign on package and numbers and stuff and I unloaded our bikes, threw his race wheels on his, pumped up the tires, swapped out a skewer, and then slammed it into my trainer so he could at least get his legs moving for 5 minutes before he went off on this 10k time trail. All around us there are dudes in skinsuits and full aero gear warming up like madmen and Andrew goes in 10 minutes and he’s putting his shoes on in a panic. Ah, bike racing. He jumps on the trainer and starts pedaling as I pin his numbers on. After maybe 5 minutes we hear his name and its time to get up there and go, Eddy Merxck style, in the drops, on a totally filthy bike with brand new shoes.

Ready to go!

Almost ready to go. Kinda.


Andrew was a hungry dude. But not at first. At first he just felt gross.

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