Yes, an announcing report. My absence from bike racing has been so long that I am now writing ANNOUNCING REPORTS. But, it’s about Ice Weasels, which is the greatest race ever so screw you.
SO. My involvement with the race started on Thursday night, when Colin and I ran errands (which included returning the crappy stakes I bought (in JD we trust)), and continued into Friday when I finalized the playlist and helped staple numbers. And Christin is allergic to dogs. Good thing I have two of them and I don’t vacuum regularly!
I did not put my nether regions on any of the numbers. Adulthood is stupid.
Also, Colin got stuck in the turnaround of my driveway (which, honestly, we both saw coming), but it was a great chance to remind him that he should probably own a Lancer Evolution.
Thankfully, the PA fit in Colin’s Fit (hahahahaha…get it???????) when we packed it up on Friday night, so Saturday morning we were out the door at 6:30 a.m.
It was cold. HOW COLD, YOU ASK? Cold enough that the lock to the gates at Grand View Farm was frozen. The property owner said he had to get the “master key”, which was obviously a pair of bolt cutters. OH, FARMER HUMOR! I should get on this, considering I have a barn. I will start referring to everything as the “master key”, which will certainly make for some silly bedroom antics!!!!
When we got there at 7, there was ALREADY A RACER THERE (Apparently he got his start time wrong, thankfully in the “too early” direction), and he was super friendly and actually helped set up. He was also riding some old road bike that may have been his dad’s (at one point), with downtube shifters and flat pedals, and I’m sure he probably beat some beginner men who were on $2,000 carbon dealies with Di2.
The gate got cut open, I got to setting up the sound system (and, most importantly, the generator so that the tent heater would work). I’d like to note that my arm is STILL (it is now Sunday evening) sore from pull-starting the generator.
Before all that “work”, though, I was the first person to poop in those portopotties. Have you ever put your butt on a portopotty seat when it’s 13º F out? Not pleasant. I was also wearing bib tights under my jeans, which required me to basically strip down to use the bathroom. GOOD THINKING, RYAN.
I thought it would be a good idea to pre-ride the course, so I borrowed Chris McKernan’s bike, which I managed to flat the rear tire of about 1/3 of the way through the course. Whoops!
The ground was totally frozen, and sections of the course were that really fun frozen washboard business that happens on the side of a dirt hill. A significant portion of the course was off-camber (or, according to Tom, “the entire course is off-camber, except for that damn run-up”).
I never actually saw the run-up, but I heard (from the promoter, duh) that it was awesome and long and would probably be a great place to spectate from if it were not 500 meters away from the fire pit and beer tent.
So, things were set up, jams were pumping, and the racing started with Beginner men. Because Colin is a “cool dude”, he decided to give all the categories totally WACKY names (well, not that wacky. Just beginner/Killer B/Jedi), and since I’m really used to talking about categories/Elite fields, I kept saying the wrong thing and I felt like a big dummy. Odds are none of you noticed, but here I am, handing you my failures on a silver platter.
The business ends of all the races were pretty exciting to watch, and unlike past Weasel editions I could actually see what was happening on much of the course. Though, I didn’t have a useful start list (COLIN), so I did a lot of the following:
– See rider number(s) as they went through the barriers.
– Take gloves off (ugh) so I could find their number(s) on the spreadsheet on my computer.
– Hope that my fingers didn’t fall off in the short time that they were exposed.
However, worse things have happened and it wasn’t a big deal, I just want to start passing off blame for any mistakes I may have made.
I mentioned the fire pit before, and it was awesome, especially when the wireless mic was working correctly, as I would go stand there and announce/interview random people standing around.
SIDENOTE: I saw a lot of my friends, where by “saw” I mean “glanced at with my eyes but didn’t talk to or say ‘hi’ to, I’m sorry, I’ll see you later.” A lot of this happened at the fire pit, and I was there trying to stay warm and not super interested in casual conversation.
The Peter Goguen/Brendan Rhim battle for the win of the Jedi/Elite/Whatever race was exciting to watch, especially Peter’s aggressive inside line after the final barriers, and of course the fact that Brendan broke the rule of “Never take a Gogeun to the line.” Brendan broke that rule AND HE PAID DEARLY (he lost).
I also enjoyed making jokes about how Mike Rowell needed to win money so he could afford improvements to his cabin in Vermont.
If you post something of interest on the Internet, I will do my best to make it into a dumb joke while announcing.
Also, people, buy stock in Melissa Seib. Or pay her off to quit cycling forever, because she is on track to be crushing all of you in a short amount of time. I should also remember how to pronounce her name correctly, as her family members are probably tired of correcting me while I botch it on the PA (“seeb”? “sib”? I’ll get it.)
Mike Rowell crushed the singlespeed men’s race (HAHA MIKE NO PRIZE MONEY IN THIS ONE BUDDY), and Melissa Seib won the women’s race. Though there was an issue with A PRETENDER TO THE THRONE in the women’s race who won, but didn’t have a number on (!!!), so didn’t get scored, c’mon people you should know this by now.
Oh, the giraffe was there. Also, dildos. Of course, being the PROFESSIONAL THAT I AM, I did not know about the dildos until one was thrown at me at the end of the race. As far as I know, dildos are not super cheap (NOTE: do not check Amazon for dildo prices, because it will totally skew your Amazon browsing history, and then Amazon will always show you dildos until the end of time so when you’re at work and you check something on Amazon and your coworker is there they think you’re some sort of crazy dildo fiend), so I appreciate someone being dedicated enough to the joke to buy a pile o’ dildos.
Here is a nice rundown, and you can see me trying to eat a waffle while also announcing.
At the end of the day, it started snowing, the promoting party went into “WE GOTTA CLEAN UP THESE STAKES NOW” mode, and they went into garbage cans which now sit in the basement of my barn (you wanna rent stakes? Talk to me.) along with the barriers.
Then we burned the results.