Morning weigh-in: 179.5#, 12% BF
Did an after-work chore day yesterday, stopping to get computer supplies at Staples, then finishing the Great Laundry Cull at the apartment (got two more huge bags for Goodwill, plus one of garbage and some old stereo speakers thrown out). Once I got home I started dicking around with the computer, which cut into my ride time but I did manage to get some time on the trainer workout. (Thirty minutes: ten warmup, ten at LT and ten cooldown, all at a 90-95 RPM cadence.) It was a good workout, but not really much of one, and since I hit Taco Hell -- hard -- for dinner, I don't know where the good weigh-in came from. But I'll take it...
Funny, a lot of the clothes I've tossed have been shirts from old races, like back when your $25 entry fee also got you a tee shirt and a water bottle -- let's call it The Nineties. I wore a lot of those shirts until they were rags, sort of a tribal identity thing, and kept them for sentimental reasons ever since. Anne got a kick out of my waxing reminiscent over them on Saturday. I started thinking about it though -- there was a lot of racing going on back then, it was a big deal. Just in New Jersey, in a season that went from March through early December, there was:
The Lewis Morris Challenge (6-race series),
RVCC at Ringwood (6-race series),
Mahlon Madness (2 races),
Fat Tire trilogy at Mahlon (3 races)
The Round Valley Rumbler,
Allamuchy (several races, plus the 24-hour race),
and the series championship at Allaire.
In eastern Pennsylvania:
Michaux (3 races),
Blue Marsh (5 or 6 races plus a few biathlons),
and God's Country.
In nearby Maryland& Delaware:
The Watershed Washout,
The Iron Hill Challenge,
and The Eastern Shore Challenge.
(New York, New England, and VA/WV/NC were just as busy, but to me, except for a few "name" races, they were their own separate world.)
That's 40 races right there, easily more than one a weekend for the busier parts of the season (there was always a lull in around July), and they were all packed, hundreds of racers at even the smallest of them. I might not have been a very good racer, but I sure had fun -- I got to know a lot of different places to ride by racing them, and got to hang out with a lot of great people, a community with its own news, and folklore and gossip.
I saw someone from racing days a few years back, and mentioned that I missed the old scene -- he said that it never went away, that I was the one who dropped out. But there aren't nearly as many races nowadays, and they aren't nearly as well attended; something might continue in attenuated form, but what I remember is gone.
By the way, this post's title? I caught myself using the phrase more than once recently. Aargh!