Boggs 8-hour

I originally decided to race Boggs back in December or so of 2012. I was at a point in my cycling where everything sucked and it was so boring and ugh, what am I even doing? That I decided to sign up for the race. However, I wasn't sure if I wanted to race it solo or with a partner, so I thought about it. And by thinking about it, I didn't really at all unless someone brought the race up. At one point, I read a post that Frank wrote on FaceBook about needing a partner for Boggs. I said I wanted to do the race, and then it was decided that we were going to do it as a two-person coed team.

So I trained some. I was really excited because I had a sweet ride for the race (my Grammo Toa). As the race approached, though, I didn't feel like doing it. It was stupid. We were going to have no showers, and why the fuck am I racing an endurance mountain bike race when I'm a crit racer? Whatever, I still rode my mountain bike and tried to sharpen my technical skills a bit more before I went to do this stupid race.

And then it was a week away and I really didn't want to go, but I unfortunately paid for the race and agreed to be on a two-person team, so I felt kind of stuck and went to do the race anyway. I could just hear my brain say, "I told you so, asshole."

So, we went to the race on Friday, May 3rd. We set up camp. I had a self-erecting (yeah) tent and it was pretty easy to set up because it seriously just self-erected. It was magical. I should probably mention that we camped with the SuperPro guys, which apparently meant that we were going to party a lot because these are the signs that were at the entrance of the campsite:

 Then we got on our bikes and pre-rode. It was getting dark and I had dark lenses on my sunglasses. I thought I was going to crash since I couldn't see shit but I didn't. Good for me, I guess. I proved my brain wrong one more day.

It was really pretty up there and the trails were a lot of fun. We went back to camp, had dinner, and got stuff ready for the race in the morning. I put my number plate and timing chip on my bike. As you can see, we were Team Bad Part. 

On race morning, I found this:

I'm not sure who put that empty beer bottle on my bike. I never found out. I didn't drink that night so it wasn't me, and it was no one I traveled with, so who knows. The mystery will remain. Anyway, we got ready for the race. Frank was first to go, so he went down to the start line while I brought water and a chair down to the pit. Our plan was to do two laps each and then alternate laps. And we did. I set everything up in the pits, got myself and my bike ready, and then went down to wait for him so I could start both my laps. 

The race was fun. It was really dusty, though, and that sucked for allergies and breathing. And you couldn't breathe because of all of the dust. I did my two laps. My second lap was more eventful than the first. Some dude decided he was going to pass me on the cliffy side of the single track and fell on me.

"Dude, get off!" I told him.

"Well if I could just pass you..."

"If you get the fuck off I'll be able to unclip and you can pass me. Get. Off." He was a prick.

A guy on lap three decided that he was going to pass me on one of the really crappy switchbacks and hooked his handlebars on my back, then blamed me for almost crashing. He was all, "AH SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"I WAS HERE FIRST YOU JERK!" He went on his way. 

As you can see, I don't let other riders bully me, whether it's on mountain or road.

Anyway, on my very last lap, I passed the SuperPro hand up station and Frank yelled out, "I'm not doing another lap!" and I immediately relaxed and took my time. I was exhausted. I actually stopped at one point to drink water and relax a bit because I was making so many stupid mistakes due to how tired I was. I was taking stupid lines. I mean, stupid. My legs and lungs were fine... well, as fine as my lungs could be with all of the dust, but my shoulders and huge roadie upper body were tired and sore. 

After my last lap, I sat with Krissy, Amanda, and the LeadOuts and hung out. I had a beer. I pretty much wanted that beer after racing 34 mountain bike miles. At that point I hadn't actually drank since my race season started in January, so I got pretty drunk pretty fast. After getting an autograph from an 11-year-old who was killing it out there on course and not being impressed by Levi being there because I don't like him at all, I slowly walked my bike up to camp with Ashley, where I proceeded to drink a couple more beers and passed out after being a complete dipshit. I achieved my goal of doing four laps. I wanted to celebrate... or something. 

Moral of the story, kids: If you're going to party with SuperPros, you better be prepared. Not drinking for months, racing 34 dirt miles, and then drinking makes you a super cheap date. I slept in my self-erecting tent like a champ that night. 

It was a fun race. I was glad to be home to take a shower. I enjoy camping but being without a shower after racing isn't as fun as it sounds. At all. It's actually really gross. I had to wash my hair twice because it didn't lather the first time. With that said, everyone should experience a race like this at least once in their lives. I'm hoping I can do this next year, either solo or as a team with Boyfriend.