My name is MUD!

6 am i shut the alarm off for the last time. I complain all week about having to be up so early and not being able to work out due to when i have to vacate my bed in the morning. Yet on a Sunday morning I am getting up at six to go ride bikes.
Today is not going to be a normal ride for today is race day. More importantly the first NORBA mountain bike race of the season. We have to meet at Bob's suburban castle at 6:45 so that we can make it to St.Joe's state park in the lovely Farmington Missouri. The best weather of the year was promised by the by the blonde trophy the news station pays to point a a green scree. Well she was right. However, the she had a sick sense of humor because she also use her million dollar smile to deliver horrible weather since November.
This day marked a milestone in my cycling Career (okay so I don't get paid but I pretend). I worked hard all of last season to make it on one team: DRJ Racing and this was my first Mountain bike race proudly displaying the blue, gold, and black. Since i had managed to finish in the top 5 four time last season I also moved from sport class to expert class so no i was racing against Icons such as Tim Kakouris, Dave Breslin, Anthony Thrower, and Eric Pirtle (a no show at St.Joes). The expert class is also stacked with the A-team from DRJ: Chris, Bob, and Wes. All of these ingredients resulted in cocktail of ravaged nerves and unrealistic hopes.
DRJ had a strong showing of six riders, One single speeder and five experts. We pre-road part of the coarse to judge the condition. The verdict: catastrophy. I took a place near the back at the starting line next to the only chick racing the open expert class (don't judge me you would have to). We started off every one trying to gain position before the casualties began to happen. I traded places with a few riders including before getting the nod to pass by my teammate Scott. I was chasing a young rider from Mesa Cycles who seemed to be laying it down. I was fighting off the soul sucking mud that was similar to the parasite from that turned spiderman into venom. I caught time before the end of the first lap and past him before the start of the second. I road pretty much alone passing a few riders from other classes in the process and catching glimpses of Paul Krewet. His ghost taunted me until he broke on the third lap and let me catch and pass him. I was severely starting to feel the pain then i felt something else. There was a wobble in the bike. I inspected my drive train the best I could at 10mph. the problem was not hard to spot. the non drive side crank was working its way off o the bottom bracket spindle (translation for those of you who just said "what??" in your heads: The sun was rising on doomsday). I stopped and realized i had sheared off the plastic tension bolt. I pulled the crank off, cleaned it as best I could, smashed it all back together in a controlled panic, tightened back down and set off again. While I feverishly worked i was passed by 5 other riders and began to cramp. I started out slamming the cranks hoping to catch the last rider who had passed me. I realized that it was hopeless and resorted to soft pedaling in order to save my components. As I neared the end of the coarse the crank fell off and I pedaled the paved path back to the start finish using only my right leg. I finished 11th out of the 12 that completed the 24 mile death march, of the 19 that started. Yes the Chick finished ahead of me she was 7th and was the first to pass me when I stopped.
I learned when i got back to the DRJ party bus A.K.A. Bob's Nissan Armada that Chris placed first followed by Bob and then Wes. Chris finished 38 minuets ahead of me. Can I complain about how I raced and the conditions? Yes I could, but I wont because that my friends is mother f*ckin' mountain bike racing.