What am I doing?!?!?!??1/

the 24th seems like such a long time ago. A lot can happen in twelve days; upgrade components, ride everyday, learn to speak Spanish (for when I go pro), break a collar bone, meet the girl of my dreams. I managed not to do any of those things.
The 24th of February was, as most of you know, the first race of the season. The week prior delivered typical Missouri freeze thaw freeze thaw roller coaster winter. We were lucky enough to get 40 degree temperatures for our high noon start. For a road race in late winter sounds like a dream come true, and would have been if it were not for the half inch of snow that hit us with a sneak attack the night before.
So there I was bundled up and standing in pack of lycra clad warriors preparing to do battle on a 31 mile loop. Each with there own goals, strategies, skills, and support. I was calm. I was racing my first race as a member of DRJ Racing. I knew the three other riders that I was sharing colors with were strong and wouldn't let me down. Our plan was for Bob and Wes to do all the work while Scott and I sat in conserving our strength for the final sprint to glory. Since Scott and I are both Cat 4 riders we need points so that we could move up in categories and race Pro/1/2/3 races. Everything was going to plan (except for Scott's early misfortune of flatting). I was feeling good and Bob was setting a killer pace. As we neared the finish I threw a chain and nearly embedded my face in the asphalt. I managed to get the bike back together and with the help of a giant adrenaline spike, that can only come from narrowly missing the opportunity f leaving half of my skin/clothing along a 100 foot strip of road, i moved back to the front and got in position for the sprint. The pack was tense. One rider form Ghisallo had already gone and Wes did a nice job of bringing him back. Everyone was waiting for the second rider to go for that would be the start to the final sprint. shoulders were rubbing, chains chattering, and if you held your breath you could hear the blood of 40 riders pounding like a stampede of long horns across the wide open land. Then it happen to my right. Bright colors where flying past me. But the rider in front did not react. Twenty-five or so riders later I was able to get out and go. To late. I was now sprinting just to sprint and it felt good. Suddenly I was not sprinting after a uniform mass of cyclists but into a writhing knot of humans and metal. A knot that sounded like pain. I cut left and avoided the carnage to finish 11th.
Goal One: prove you can hang with the cat 3s in a race.
Goal two: Win
Goa Three: If goal two is not achieved be happy with what you did accomplish.
Two out of three is not bad and neither is 11th our of 75.