The Beginning of the End
Thankfully there is a handful of us left – enough to hold a cyclocross race anyway, which is really all you can hope for when the entire world has descended into a barren wasteland of nothingness. Lucky for us, Ian and Hal managed to survive, and set a very enjoyable race course – except for the soul-sucking running parts through the snow, of course. But it is, after all, the End of the World, and we have to expect that conditions might be a little harsh.Given the fact that all of the good surgeons and physiotherapists are dead, I decided not to ride down suicide hill. Leah was not so wise, but she is a professional and has far better crashing skills than I do. Still, the bloodthirsty spectators were not amused.
The aftermath has made temperatures immoderately cold, requiring special protective gear. It is cumbersome and uncomfortable, but on the upside, it hides the snotsicles pretty well. On the downside, it does not seem to enhance performance in any way whatsoever.
After the race was over and I had washed a lovely cranberry strudel down with a nice Leffe Blonde, I joined Colin outside and we contemplated the New Reality. Accommodations are sparse, but we agreed that these spartan conditions will bring humanity back to a more hardy condition than it has known for many years. Then we went to find more beer.
The apocalypse has caused some horrible mutations, like this frighteningly ferocious yeti (who looked oddly familiar). He had come in search of prey, but stayed to watch the race and cheer.
Thankfully there were plenty of little kids around in case he got hungry. I was also happy to see that there was at least one survivor from Parlour Coffee.
The End of the World will be SO much easier to tolerate as long as I can still get a decent Americano. It’s also a pretty good sign that the New World Order could very well be run by hipsters. At least we will be stylish.
In retrospect, we really should have seen this coming. Surely David’s recent lack of facial hair was a foreboding sign of the apocalypse. But like hope itself, David’s beard now springs from his face, signalling the return of balance to the universe.As I was leaving, one of the ‘A’ guys held the door for me so I thought it only polite to ask how his race went. He grumbled something about there being too much running for a cyclocross race. Make no mistake, brother – it’s a brave new world out here. It’s time to hunker down and harden the fuck up.
Thanks to Hal and Ian and the Olympia Cycling Club for a great race on a day that reminded us how good it is to still be alive. Thanks also to Woodcock Cycle for the pictures I used. Much obliged.