Greenlake Race July 2009

I haven’t been out to the Greenlake Race at midnight all year; the last time I showed up was for the Race of Champions in December, when I threw down my hilarious (to me, anyway) hoax and convinced people (for a few seconds, anyway) that I’d won the heat, so I figured—especially with the weather so lovely—that the July edition of the competition, for which organizer Rogelia promised he’d provide pre-race tacos, was in order; consequently, I made sure I had a nap in the afternoon and a couple beers with dinner to get in the mood, and after a pre-funk at the Café Metropolitan to toast the birthday of senior Wrayford sister, Ryan, headed up with half a dozen other hopefuls to the track around the lake.

There, a pretty good contingent of tipsy (and not-so-tipsy) cyclists were milling about, finishing up the last of the salsa and tortillas, in preparation for the witching hour flag to drop.

Eventually, the field was organized, and, at Rogelio’s command, the race began. I quickly dropped into the final group of riders, a lively contingent composed of a couple girls who screamed and giggled infectiously every time (half a dozen, at least) we got drenched riding through the park’s sprinklers and three young shirtless guys on BMX bikes, all of whom but one, I’m proud to say, I eventually passed.

At first, I wasn’t even going to race, but the night was too fine to pass up the opportunity and, thanks to my steady pace (along with the dinner beers and pre-race pre-funk), I was feeling no pain—apart from a bit ego-gnawing until I passed that second BMX-er.

Also, it felt good to support the ongoing event; it’s nice to see that it perseveres, in all its glorious stupidity, in the post-Ito era. I probably won’t make it back until December again (if at all), but I’m glad the race carries on, even if I don’t.