First Upgrade

As if coming back to racing after missing the whole season from chronic fatigue couldn't get any more surreal, I got upgraded to Cat 3 on the last night of track racing.

The MVA threw us a bone and generously allowed the Cat 4 ladies to do one whole big stinkin' race on the last Friday night of the season. Seventeen gloriously fit and muscled women lined the rail to give the crowd a hell of a show. It was by far the fastest, best race of my colossal racing career. Lots of attacks, lots of speed, lots of close calls. Major thrills in the 3x5. Rock Star Jane took the first sprint, as I knew she could and would. I snuck my way past another girl and took the second sprint at 32 mph (hello...where did everyone go? It was like a bullet train), but then I fucked up and didn't get with the lead group for the last sprint until it was too late and took 5th or so. That last lap will haunt me until next year. Position, position, position. Don't sit back cuz it WILL be too late. Jane and I ended up tied for 2nd overall in the race and she was quite thrilled.

Afterwards in the beer garden, the announcer botched up my name and called me to their booth. I had no idea why, feeling more like being called to the principal's office. Maybe it was the MVA apologizing for being such asses to women's racing and treating us as second class. Instead, I found myself with the USCF official who politely informed me that I had enough points to upgrade and asked if I'd like start the next track season as a Cat 3. "Are you kidding???" I was absolutely stunned. Bright lights, lots of people, even more bikes, and an official asking if I wanted to hit my dream for the year after being on the sidelines for nearly all of it. (That was a yes.)

So I got a tiny line-out on my USCF card crossing out the "4" and replacing it with a neatly penned number "3", her initials and today's date. I'm carrying it around like a proud parent. I keep looking at it in total disbelief. I don't know what was in those vitamins, but they were good.