Lung Biscuits Are Yummy

I spent Sunday afternoon doing the hardest cyclocross race of my life, and then all of Sunday night sounding like a chainsmoker. I haven't hacked up that much stuff since I had pneumonia as a kid. That CAN'T be good for your body. But everyone else was clearly suffering, too -- the contorted faces along the course can hardly be described as attractive.

Here's what I look like (overjoyed that I'm not tripping over the barrier in an oxygen-deprived stagger):


This hill doesn't look like much in a photograph, but it was one of those easiest-gear-you've-got, stand-and-grind kinds of pain in the ass:



The crowd was awesome -- lots of teammates and friends cheering and ringing cowbells, barbequeing and hanging out, having a good time. It felt like a par-tay. And Zack was amazing as always, giving Cindy and I handups as well as providing much-needed vocal support. I'm always astounded that he's so supportive... I must confess I don't see too many other boyfriends doing that! He's the man.
The course was full of tough spots, lots of running uphill, through sand, etc. and it's just Murphy's Freakin' Law that the only spot to slow down and try to recover was in full view of the spectators. So you're all hunched over, gasping for air and going about one mile an hour while everyone hollers at you to "go, go, go!" It's just lovely. But I loved the fast downhills, zooming along and whipping through the off-camber turns. Wheeee!

Here's what it looks like when the pros do it:


And here's an artsy way to look at it:


(None of these photos were shot by me, just so ya know. Beth Jordan gets props for the pix of me; Daily Camera freelancer Jonathan "Sexual Harassment Lawsuit Waiting to Happen" Castner took the other two.)