We passed an elementary school where every kid was outside, screaming their faces off. One rider threw a water bottle toward the kids, and one of them with a mullet ducked under his teacher and sprinted for the bottle before being cuffed by who must have been the principal.
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Within the first 15 miles of the race, some poor bastard hit a pothole, lost his saddle, and rode a solid 5-10 miles without sitting down.
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I dropped back into the caravan through the loops to piss and refeed. As I worked back up, I noticed Project Echelon’s car had a Wisconsin license plate. I hollered through the window with a heavy Wisconsin accent as I overtook the car.
“Hey, der! Got any Millers left in der?”
Without missing a beat, their DS said, “Hey, guy! Yep, got a few left. I’ll keep em’ cold for ya until after the race.”
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In the Food Basket, Silver City’s premium grocer, I rounded an Aisle and saw Carson Christen, who I raced on a team with ten years ago in my first Gila in the CAT 3s. He’s now the DS for the Above and Beyond Cycling Team; I still haven’t given up.
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Outside the Food Basket, Silver City’s premium grocer, I saw a man shadowboxing himself.