In fact, this season was going to be the one in which I truly became a formidable racer upgrading to Cat 1 in a matter of 4 races and subsequently starting to be noticed by pro teams scouting for good riders for next year. My sprinting would make people wonder why they even race and my climbing would be such a spectacle to watch that people from the countryside would come out to watch my seemingly supernatural ability as pictured below:
The ladies would hardly be able to contain themselves due to my irresistible physique and bicycle race winning ability. They would come out in droves and go to lengths once thought only the realm of obsessive stalkers just to catch a glimpse of my race number or even the scent of my fragrant pheromone. Shown below is an example of what would happen at a typical race happening at a velodrome I was racing in:
The world as it were would be completely serving of my bicycle racing lifestyle and would not cease to do my will at a whim. However, this season so far has taken an incredible nose dive into a displeasing reality that has me questioning if I may actually be wrong in my judgement about future and current events.
Portland Plaza Bicycle Policy - The Final Word
One of the most absurd questioning I have had to do is whether I am being reasonable with the Portland Plaza Homeowners Association in asking them to allow bicycle owners and thus me to be able to bring my bicycle up to my unit. Could it be that I am unreasonable in the amount of bicycles that I own and am opening a pandora's box to hordes of second-class-residents (aka renters and bike owners) to completely scratch up the elevators worse than the likes of a men's bathroom wall in a dive bar? Apparently yes, I am an unreasonable activist - the HOA did not change the rules that prohibiting residents from bringing a bicycle up to their unit.
The Portland Plaza is like a hot chic at first impression. Looks great, is from a desirable part of town and is rich. However, once you get to know her and her family a little bit more, things start going south. First you find out that parents are obsessed with rules and etiquette, grilling you for every minute detail you have done wrong. Her brother says he thinks it is reasonable for her sister to date, but thinks you have no business with the family's way of doing things since you aren't part of the country club (since you're a renter). The worst of all things is that you ultimately find out that this hot chic won't let you put your bicycle in her elevator. And with that you know that the relationship just won't work out for the long-term.
Back to my Dominant Racing Season
Every once in a while I do take a little time off crushing and ripping other bicycle racer's legs off and beating them with them to hang out. And to ensure that my hanging out is equal opportunity, I chose to attend ethnic fest with Karly's friend. And then we chatted a little bit about how Jordan had unknowingly solved the world's traffic problems.
You see it is a really simple equation. Time = Distance/Speed. In Jordan's equation he drastically reduced the distance factor of his commute by moving to within 2 miles of work instead of 25. Although I am working on the world's most intuitive traffic information model I know right from the start that reducing the distance one has to drive (aka moving somewhere close to your daily activities) they will save much more time than what a traffic app will save them.
wait a second, racing!!!!
Tonight was the Tacoma Twilight Criterium, the race that I would conclusively win to the delight and admiration of all of my Tacoma friends. They would all be awestruck at how effortlessly I would lap the field that they would begin to dig into the prize money of the Cat 1/2 field and even consider giving me the pacecar as well (of course I would turn around and sell it, cars suck).
And I was ready. This photo below perfectly encapsulates my sheer focus even before the race started on how steadfast I would be in winning the race for Tacoma Bike. Nevermind Tony who is doing his own thing with his aviators. Little does he know the amount of ass-whooping I am about to unleash on the streets. You see I was on a mission for a position at the top of the podium.
As the race began I immediately felt challenged to battle through the harsh wind on the backside. Nonetheless I got myself into a break which had trouble organizing itself. And then it got too big - 12 riders or so. I tried attacking to actually get a small one going again, but ultimately it all got swallowed and Sofa King won it again after I barely had enough to stay with the pack in the sprint. What an utter disappointment for me. I drowned my sorrows with a my prime winnings of a plate of pasta and a beer which then kept me awake after trying to get to bed early. At the restaurant some friendly locals impressed with racing in general asked me if I'd rather win a race or win a girl and I said win a race. Nothing matters more to me as I have lost sight of the rest of what normal people seek for fulfillment in life.
Vancouver
And on again to another race. I peacefully rode over to the other state thinking about race strategy and was relaxed when I got there. However, as the race went along I got a slow leak and bailed instead of going too fast through the 7-corner course on 40psi in the rear. As a result, Culpepper now has 3 wins in a row in Cat 3 men OBRA land.
And it continues at PIR
I was super focused on my strategy of winning a hot spot and then the final sprint and thus the race. However, I heard an imaginary bell and crushed the field from 300 meters for no reason at all. After that the winning break got away and I was off the back in the field sprint and super hungry.
Wednesday I ate a cucumber that was actually a zucchini.
And now Thursday I'm going to do hill sprints up Tabor, but Tabor racing is already over and it's Thursday. Whatever, I live in my own world anyways!
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