It's All About the Finish

Tragedy struck the Fine Dining Club mere minutes into our journey to State College: The Molester Van, trusty steed, cherished friend, traffic statute violater and altogether integral part of these cross-state jaunts, disassembled. Specifically, the radiator began to leak antifreeze at an alarming rate and we were forced to abandon it for other, smaller vehicles that proved less capable stages for our theatrics.

We stayed at the Harbor Inn in Philipsburg, "harbor" perhaps referring to the refuge given to the central pennsylvania denizens who scream into cellphones, party all night and loudly make disparaging comments about various minority groups. The benefit of this location was that we were located close to the Moshannon staging area, allowing us to arrive earlier than just about everyone and acclimate to the damp, chilly weather. The C TTT went off first, Jake once again agitated that he could not use the aero helmet. We went off first in the D group, dropping Jason and Zach pretty early and then I dropped Jake a couple of times because I felt as strong as I have in any race all year. After yelling at some riders who were milling about in the middle of the course, I effectively pulled Jake to a fourth place and I am stunned and totally proud of this so don't take it away from me. With our C men taking first (break out the champagne), we D guys taking fourth and our ladies also picking up points in B, it was our most successful TTT of the year. Tough not to be excited.

It warmed up and cleared up for the road race and we set off to our unknown fates, although I was certain my fate would be either a) eat pavement on the descent or b) cry like a baby on the ascent. Some riders went with a, I went with b. I finished by Jake, Chris once again was our top finisher and all of us had a little bit of trouble with the turn just before the end. The ladies finished nicely with a minimum of tears, Julie in Intro picked up our only road race points and our C riders, rocking the very stylish and always classy grey throwback t-shirts, fell victim to the spread-out field and hill and landed themselves outside of points.

By this point, we all smelled like the dried out filth we had been coated with earlier, and once I had had enough standing around in a towel and everyone else had had enough of harassing certain t-shirt salesmen, we absconded to Philipsburg and took a very convoluted path to get beer and food, traipsing around town before settling on Sarina's, a reasonably priced local place whose main claim to the fine dining pantheon of Restaurants That Are Tasty was some very, very well-made bread.

With little time passing to allow for digestion, we headed into State College for the banquet. We attacked the food with all due ferocity, piling our plates with everything that was offered us. There was a video courtesy of MHC that neglected one of the nakedest and certainly handsomest of ECCC riders (me) but featured Jesse's mug prominently as well as one of the most bad-ass of ECCC pictures, the RIT 'Untouchables' shot. Millersville won the dance-off fashion contest with all the grace expected of a half-naked man hopping tables, medals were handed out and then Joe proposed marriage to Caitlin, coincidentally mere seconds before everybody got something in their eyes. Upon exit, I collected a stack of styrofoam take-out trays that will no doubt be put to the dumbest of effects.

The next day provided all in attendance the opportunity to stand around in a light drizzle, and perhaps slip and fall on the slick pavement. The crit course was, it was generally agreed, "bomb as hell" but the slickness of the wet added an element of danger to a course that naturally required a difficult-to-move-up paceline. People still tried to do so, usually resulting in a tumble and a frown. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the kid who decided to cut me off on a dumb line and then fall in front of me; that was a pretty sweet trick, maybe you could show me how you did it some time. Nevertheless, RIT was well-represented in the D top 10, with Chris taking second, Jake taking sixth and me taking seventh in a euphoric, hungover, post-crash haze. Amanda decided to not race in B women, but Sam put in some strong work with the chase group before getting pulled. Brandon took the Intro W on a broken bike, pushing a nice finishing sprint, and Julie was taken out in the first lap of the women's Intro and was understandbly a little gunshy vis a vis race continuation. The real party was in C, though, with Peter making a massive break that lapped the field and Will doing an excellent job blocking. Jesse had the worst of luck in his last collegiate race, first getting taken out by an Army crash, then getting shafted on the re-entry from the pit, and finally taking another tumble in an overzealous attempt to catch back up to the group. The points Peter and Will picked up, however, helped propel RIT up the standings to a final Overall position of 19th, 9th in D2. The only damper on the day was that I, for the final time, did not get a water bottle, though my teammates had promised me they would be prominent all year long. Shameful.

Somewhere around this time we set up our soon-to-be world famous bike blender, selling a couple of banana-strawberry smoothies like good little capitalists, and afterwards moving on to some well-earned margaritas. Look for the bike blender to be used in longer road races next year; those GU packets are very expensive. We eventually needed some kind of food, so we wandered over to Green Bowl on Zach's suggestion and ate stir fry that can't really be reviewed because it's personal to each member in attendance. A buffet-style pre-prep allows you to put various vegetables, noodles and sauces on your plate that is then stir fried in the mongolian barbeque style and is then delivered to your table. The all-you-can-eat aspect was a positive, as well as the customizability. The minute bowl of rice stands as a negative, as do the people in line who can't figure out if they want two carrot slices or three on their dish. A certain degree of patient is a requisite for eating here.

We returned to our tent as the awards ceremony was beginning, a product of our impeccable timing. People got their medals and we packed up our things, waving good bye to one another and going our separate ways. I found a water bottle on the ground, fulfilling my season long dream of getting one at a race. By all accounts, Peter had a season-best mooning on the return trip, keeping his ass on the window of Amanda's saturn long enough to expose himself to three vans worth of Army riders.

This concludes the ECCC portion of this blog. It'll probably be updated with some RIT-related varia in the next few weeks before I graduate, and after that I'll pass the torch onto someone to whom I can entrust the great responsibility of the upkeep of this blog. I'd like to finish by acknowledging the things and people who've had a pronounced affect on me these past few weeks. First, thanks to the ECCC for existing; you've saved me from the drudgery of my last quarter as a college student. Concurrently, I'd like to thank the RIT team and the Intro field for helping me get into racing bikes, as both were instrumental in my ability to not flounder around like a jackass. Thanks to Neosporin for helping me recover from road rash, thanks to beer, Vitamin Water for helping recover from races, thanks to everyone who drove the incessant miles. I'd like to specifically thank Jesse Steiner for being as good a captain as one can have, through organization, being support for the team and always riding hard and inspiring others to do likewise. Finally, thanks to everyone who put up with my bullshit in the pack, everyone who beat me and everyone who didn't. I guess this is the part where I put an inspiring quote like, "keep the rubber on the road" or something equally banal, but profundity is overrated. Ride bikes, have fun.