Getting into my car on Saturday night, heading to pick up The Doctor, Nico, and CFR I had no idea, no possible way to fathom, how amazing/epic/unbelievable this weekend was to be. That 24 hours had everything in it.
The first destination of the evening brought us into the town of Columbia for a meeting with mini-Nico at an establishment by the name of Shakespeare's, right on the edge of coed country. There we set on our sights on double jobs. One of only 2 jobs that is even better when you have two of them. The official pizza of team seagal. JOBS: jalapeno, onion, bacon, and sausage on a bed of pepperjack cheese. Can you say tasty. Casey still could as he coached the rest of us on devouring double slices of the jalapeno goodness.
Parting ways with mini-Nico and his flavor country edition minivan we continued on the the elder Toscani residence south of Kansas for some much needed rest to prepare or stomachs for the beer to be consumed, the yelling to be done, and the cowbells to be rung the next day. Not wanting us to attempt such feats on an empty stomach Fancy Nancy and elder Toscani treated us to fresh made Belgian Waffles that put those in that link to shame, piles of bacon and sausage, and eggs fried in the grease of said Bacon. Only then were we truly ready.
Having stuffed ourselves we headed north to the race course at Tiffany Springs Park. Ensuring full stomachs had us arriving a little late to the park and we only caught the end of the singlespeed race dominated by young James Lalonde.
Does that Lalonde family ever give any other racers a chance? Although I'm not sure he could have held off this kid had he entered:
Armed with morning beverage/second breakfast we prepared ourselves for the heckling and cheering all you local cross racers have come to know and love.
In the Collegiate Div 2 race we were pleasantly surprised to find our own Robort racing before having to be at work back in stl at noon.
We gave him much inspiration yelling "Go Robort! Go! Go!" He seemed both inspired and perplexed by our cheering.
While standing around waiting for the start of the collegiate womens race the coldest wind we ever felt blew in. The temperatures instantly dropped 20 degrees. Had there been a hobbit, a gay cowboy, we were in New York, and surrounded by bad acting they might have made a movie about it. The collegiate women were on the line waiting for the race start when the cold hit. I hope they all still have feeling in their extremities. If not the Doctor has a few remedies he can provide for them if they'd like. For the east coast syndicate here are a couple of them:
After putting on a few layers we eventually made our way over to partying/heckling/cheering central at the step run-up right before the end and settled in for the rest of the collegiate races. There we met are comrades in arms. Now those guys know how to have a good time. I think they might have broken our record for most PBR given out at a race. It's always good to have a new challenge for the next racing year.
By the time of the start of the Women's Elite the temperatures had plummeted even more. My beer was freezing (I need to yell less and drink more in the future to keep that from happening), my toes were numb, and my fingers couldn't even work the controls on my camera. I got off a picture of Katie Compton on her way to domination and that was about it.
I got back to the car as quickly as I could and put on every available layer of clothing I could find: my pajama pants under my jeans, every base layer I had, Coach's hoody, and a pair of work gloves that were in my trunk. I might have looked homeless, but I feel sorry for those who didn't have enough clothes or were unable to steal them from friends. What's the difference between a CX fan on a bitterly cold day and a homeless man? The CX fan has no trouble getting more beer.
Some people sought a different path to warmth:
Warmed up, the team regrouped back at the steps section to add our voices to the cheering and jeering of the guys warming up for the elite mens race. The formula was simple: ride up the steps or at least attempt it and receive thunderous cheers and horn blowing. Ignore our course direction on the best line and run it and receive the wrath of thirty drunk CX fans. I'm sorry, that should read CX fans. It's understood we were all drunk.
Much as Team Seagal predicted in our earlier posts the Elite race was a Ryan Trebon domination. I''m pretty sure said domination was mostly a result of his receiving an invite to CXMAS. He simply couldn't contain the excitement and put it all into the pedals.
A few of my favorite pics:
Trebon is just too damn tall to fit into one picture:
Having yelled and rung bells until our arms were sore we needed to refuel and embarked on a path of return to said Shakespeares pizza for a planned meeting with mini-Nico once more, and the Mesa Crew, fine CX hecklers/spectators/racers in their own right although their pizza consumption could use a little guidance. I mean come on... salads. Destruction of three 16" pizzas ensued on the Team Seagal end of the table, all of them covered in jalapenos, two of them the aforementioned JOBS.
So in conclusion, lessons learned/reinforced from CX Nats: Ryan Trebon is retarded fast, Schlafley Special Reserve Imperial Stout is simply excellent in the morning, mother nature can be a bitch, CFR can make your eyes water at will, Team Seagal should sell our services to pizzerias recommending pizza topping combinations, the existence of cyclocross racing is a sign that there is still much right with this world, and cyclocross is mustache headquarters for the cycling universe.
See all you all at CXMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here are the rest of the pics PICS I got.