I’ve been getting some emails asking about the race on Sunday. Guess I got caught up in a lot of other things and forgot. There was a huge hail storm in Topeka Saturday night that destroyed just about everything that I own that was outside. That wasn’t good. But, I was up in Nebraska still racing.

The race on Sunday went fine result wise, but I felt shitty. The course was harder than I remember. Or I was just worse. It was only 60 minutes, with one medium sized hill. But, it was windy again. The race turned into an attack, then chase-fest. We’d, TradeWind Energy guys, would attack and then everyone else would chase. Kind of like a lot of woman’s racing goes. That isn’t belittling woman’s racing, it ends up being pretty hard. Changing speeds in bike racing is where it gets tough.

Finally, Brian just rode away. Brian’s secret in cycling is that his attacks are pretty stealthy. He doesn’t look like he’s going as fast as he is when he initially goes. I, on the other hand, thrash my bike back and forth and look like I’m going faster than I am. Anyway, I was planning on jumping up to Brian the next lap on the hill, but I was coming from the back and someone attacked on the hill and I got sort of gassed and had to wait some. By then, Brian was way gone.

Eventually I jumped over the top of the hill and only Austin Vinton, from Mercy Cycling, came along. Austin had been covering nearly every move himself the whole day and was pretty impressive. We rode just one lap and they rung the bell. I thought we had 30 minutes to race at least. It didn’t really matter. Austin tried to loose me a couple times before the climb and once on the hill itself before the finish, but that wasn’t going to happen.

So, Brian won, I finished 2nd and Bill was 3rd in the field sprint for 6th.

The guys up in Nebraska do an unbelievable job promoting races. The amount of energy they put out for these local events is unreal. They had custom podiums, custom banners, chip timing, water, coffee, just about anything you’d imagine at a huge race. It is a pleasure every time I go up there to race.

I guess we’re heading to Iowa this weekend for Snake Alley, Muscatine, and Rock Island. I really want to head to Colorado and sit at altitude for a couple weeks before Tulsa, but I can’t skip Memorial Day in Iowa. It’s too much fun.

Hail Kris picked up in the front yard.

All five of the new skylights at the building were toast.

Friday night I drove down to KC for Bill Marshall’s 40th birthday bash. I gave him a 1988 Tour de France T-shirt from the basement collection. Joseph, on the right, wasn’t even born yet. I was lucky to get out of there barely hurt, just a couple Red Bull and Vodkas.

When I was a child I was hurt all the time. Stitches, broken bones, ruptured spleen, hit by cars, you name it, it happened. When I was 11 or so I was picking apples for my best friend’s grandmother. I wasn’t that high in the tree, maybe 6 feet up. The branch I was standing on broke when I had my hands full of apples, so I fell. I landed on a picket fence, hanging by my armpit, with my feet not touching the ground. I had a paper boy bag over my shoulder full of apples, so it was pretty hard dislodging myself from my situation.

I put my hand under my armpit and realized it wasn’t good. My friend’s grandmother had missed the whole accident and I was concerned that the blood was going to really upset her. I told her I had to go home because I’d cut my foot, barefoot as I was, of course. Running down her driveway, I took my t-shirt off and stuffed it under my arm because I was bleeding pretty good.

It was a weekend and when I got home, both my parents were there. They were pretty used to me being hurt. My dad said he’d take me to the emergency room, which was out of character for him. So, back to the ER. I was there all the time and wasn’t the least bit stressed about it. We checked in and had to sit there for at least an hour. I started feeling weird and told my dad I needed something to drink. He asked the nurse if I could have something to drink because I was feeling light headed. She said it was better if I didn’t drink anything for some reason. Pretty soon they called my name and when I stood up I had a head rush. You know the kind you get after you’ve done a long ride and stand up too quickly. Anyway, I teetered a bit and dropped the t-shirt that was still stuffed up in my underarm. It hit the floor with a splat and blood was everywhere. Lots and lots of blood.

They rushed me back and a doctor was there immediately. I had just nicked the artery running to my arm and it was spurting blood pretty good. I had never seen a doctor mad before and he was crazy made at the nurses. Anyway, it all turned out okay and I was fine.

Yesterday I did something that I thought would have been totally impossible. I stitched up a cat. Fritz, the white kitten from a few months back, was laying in his cat bed and Kris noticed that he was cut up. A pretty big wound. I was about to take him to the vet, but then I though that maybe I could do it. It wasn’t the money or anything, it was that I knew that they would have had to put the cat under general anesthesia. I haven’t had a very good track record with pets under anesthesia. I haven’t had a very good track record under general anesthesia either. So, I did it.

I still can’t believe it. This cat should be a dog. It squirmed a couple times, but it was great. The only problem is that the only sutures I had, the needle was super small and the suture material was exactly the same color as Fritz’s white fur, and really thin. I was having a super problem typing the knots. It took a while and I was pretty torched from the stress afterward. I realize that I”m going to have a very hard time finding the stitches and removing them. I left a pretty good amount of suture sticking out, but I still think it is going to take awhile. I bet I leave one in. I’m taking the feral cat that is living in my bathroom, with the one remaining kitten, to my vet this afternoon. I’m going to ask him for some antibiotics for Fritz then.

Anyway, I thought of the picket fence story because a couple years ago I was inspecting myself for ticks after being out with Bromont and I was looking in my underarm and thought there was a tick. But it wasn’t, it was a stitch left in from way back. I thought it was amazing that it could have lasted there that long. So, I’m not that worried about missing one in the cat.

Big cut.

Fixed.

Happy cat still today.