A.C. Race Series #2 - Sometimes, I think it's a sin...

By Scotty Mac

Far as I'm concerned, Gordon Lightfoot is the man. The. Man. I grew up on his music, an inherited love from my parents, and thirty-odd years later, it still speaks to me. Weird way to start a race report? Sure. But I've gone and done it anyway.

The reason the Canadian bard merits mention is because a lyric from his song "Sundown" kept rolling through my mind as the course official at the top of the Bear Creek Terrace race course hollered at us that the race was cancelled due to the driving rain and the stabbing lightning:

"Sometimes, I think it's a sin/When I feel like I'm winnin' when I'm losin' again."

Because, up until that point, I had been comprehensively crushing the race. Easily, without a doubt in my mind, it was far and away the best I had ever done with a number plate on the front of my bike. I was in second, maybe first place in my class and I had the gap to stay away. And then, *poof* Ma Nature appeared with a full dram of righteous wrath.

"Sometimes, I think it's a sin/When I feel like I'm winnin'..."

The race started as well as it possibly could, even as the rain picked up its sense of urgency. I got clipped into my pedals and kept tight to the initial leaders in my group. I had just pre-ridden the course and though I was eager to apply my lessons learned from the first Ascent Cycling race, I retained a little patience. There was a nice, wide climb after the first left and I thought that would be the place to make my move.

And sure enough, even as I thought it, it was real. The first guys to hammer out for my race sat up and I motored right by, kept the throttle down for the rest of the climb and stormed through the opening lap in good shape.

"Sometimes, I think it's a sin..."

The elements continued to punch well above their weight, as has been the case here through the months of May and June. During the first half of the second lap, the course transitioned from slightly damp, to really damp, to slime. Same old song, I know. Believe you me, I'd love to sing a different tune.

And then, on top of the ridge, still away and still feeling okay, the course marshal gave us the "shut 'er down" spiel, and that, as they say, was that. I cruised back to the start/finish, took a moment to look down sadly at my poor, mud-caked Kona Big Kahuna hardtail and then beat feet for the truck, thoughts of a warm dinner spinning 'round my head. But I was smiling. The race was cut short, but I had an absolute blast.

"Sometimes, I think..."

Mac out.