Study break

I haven't eaten enough
for basic body maintenance
which I guess is self-destructive
behavior of the sort
people are always talking about.

But how appropriate
that I feel this empty.

It's too perfect to ruin
with the banalities
of yet another grilled cheese
reminder of masterpieces
manufactured for the lips
of another.

What could more obscene
than eating as if consumption
will lead to satisfaction?
So rather than rush
to rectify this gnawing
I'll revel, reflecting
on the tastes I'll be missing.

Poem:
Don't worry, I'm not starving myself. It's just that when I got hungry at work it felt appropriate, and I decided to experience it instead of just mindlessly consuming food. I must say, it's more interesting that I thought it would be to actually think about the fact that I'm hungry. Usually I either realize it and eat immediately, preemptively eat so as to never arrive in this situation in the first place, or, in the worst case scenario, push the realization out of focus in the event no food is readily available. I guess it takes a bit of a shake-up to get around to this.

Observation:
I got my new headphones today. They are huge and make me look silly. Also, they are amazing. None of the headphones I've had previously have sounded like these. Where there was once a baseline in the songs I knew, there is now a base chorus. It turns out that base isn't just a term for "that one low note used to set a beat," but can actually refer to an entire register of notes. Just when I think they've played the lowest note, another one lower shudders through the earpieces and sends a bit of a chill up my spine. The model I got was the Ultrasone DJ1 Pros, and while I'm curious what other types of headphones might sound like, these have blown me away so far. They are also amusing in that they are basically just speakers strapped to my head with little cushions to seal them. The cushions are spectacular, and allow for almost no sound leakage in or out. Of course, when I take them off the fact that they are really nothing more than speakers becomes apparent, since without anything to seal the sound in to, the music comes out loud and clear. I guess that could be a positive, though, if I wanted to share whatever I'm listening to.
The purchase of these has two immediate consequences on my life. The first is that I am now effectively deaf to the world. Unless the sound source is touching me, I'm not going to hear it. The second is that I will have a permanent dent in my hair where the strap presses into my head. These are small prices to pay for the pleasure I am experiencing. Actually, that first one isn't so much a price as yet another unlooked-for benefit. It turns out I don't like very much of the stuff I hear of the outside world anyway. I'll just have to be sure to be more olfactorily aware in case of emergencies (fires, etc.) Chances are still good that if you hear about a really stupid-sounding fatality in the next few days it's going to be me. I could totally imagine the scenario where I'm sitting at work transferring plant cells from one petri dish to another and then all of a sudden the flames that have been ravaging the building for an hour finally close in on me. But at least I'll go out to the tune of beautiful music.

Here's a picture!


Me:
The awkwardness of my ex-girlfriend and my sister being friends has become quite apparent. Not that I was really expecting it to remain hidden, but I thought I'd write a bit about it since it's on my mind. It turns out that my sister bought my ex a cat. Well, an adorable little kitten, but you get the point. This was something she had talked about wanting, and something I had cautioned rather strongly against, since she's out of town almost every weekend for frisbee during the seasons that is going, and busy with school and stuff the rest of the time, and I think cats (kittens especially) deserve as much attention as you can give them. Furthermore, she will be graduating soon with no guarantee that she'll have a place for the cat to stay after that. All in all, it just didn't strike me as prudent (since she already stranded her dog with her parents when she left the house for college).
That's not the real reason this is annoying, of course. The annoyance is that apparently she needed such an extreme form of consolation after cheating on her boyfriend and then breaking up with him. Gee, what a harsh situation to go through... Good thing she has such a good friend to cheer her up. And just to add (unintentional) insult to (emotional) injury, when my sister and I were talking and I made a comment about how I must not have been an interesting enough guy, my sister jumped right to her defense, saying that she just wants to know what else is out there. Not quite the reassurance I was fishing for. At the very least she could have mentioned that I'm not that uninteresting. It's not like she needed to go overboard and list the fact I'm involved in many sports at pretty high levels, have a patent pending for genetics, published works of all sorts in the local literary magazine, and a plethora of other things pointing toward the contrary. But you know, throwing me some sort of bone would have been nice. It's not like I'm expecting a new pet or anything. I mean, my standards are pretty low...
That's about all the ranting I'm in the mood for today. Other events in my life include the upcoming LSAT, studying for the LSAT, worrying about the LSAT, and occasionally eating/sleeping.

Looks like I have free time OR A post about self-pity

I haven't been posting here for a variety of small reasons. I tell myself I don't have time, or that I'm never going to actually be a writer, or that I'm not up for the obligation of posting regularly. Sometimes I don't post because I feel like being defiant. And these things have made me realize that this HAD become a blog for some of the wrong reasons. Now, for a bad segue.

I listen to Starcraft 2 commentary. Starcraft 2 is a video game, and while I have only played it a few times (to little success), I find it fascinating. The premise is that you have to build an army starting basically from scratch while managing your resources and technology to gain an advantage over your opponent, who is trying to do the same thing. It falls into the genre RTS (Real-Time Strategy) because all of  It's played professionally, most notably in Korea, where it is televised and the teams have 16 hour-a-day practice regimens. Anyway, the most famous commentator/castor is a guy named Sean Plott. His screen name (and name he is known by to almost everyone) is Day[9]. I would definitely recommend you watch his video My Life of Starcraft, no matter whether or not you are interested in the game, or even interested in games in general. It can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJztfsXKcPQ    It's almost two hours long, so it's not to be undertaken lightly, but it's worth it. This paragraph has been leading up to the fact that Day[9], when talking about reasons for wanting to play Starcraft, said something along the lines of: you have to enjoy every aspect of it. You have to enjoy working on splitting your workers (the first thing you do in the game, a routine action), much like to be a good author you have to enjoy writing individual sentences. You can't want to play Starcraft because you want to be good at Starcraft and be a pro, just as a writer can't write because they want to have a bestseller. (I don't think that quote is in the video I linked, but that video is amazing anyway.)

The point is: I enjoy writing sentences. I love making little internal jokes inside my work that I know nobody else will pick up on. I don't leave a sentence in my writing if I see a way it can be improved upon. The way words flow together, the way the rhythms of sentences form, and even the use of parentheticals versus commas intrigues me. I enjoy the craft that is writing. So from now on, when I blog, it won't be because I felt obliged. And it won't be because I want people to read it. Which also means I won't be adhering to my little POEM setup anymore. Yes, I still plan on including poetry. I just don't want to be confined. I've decided it's not about forcing myself to write (as it says in my blog description), but about giving myself an outlet. Therefore, if I stop feeling like writing, there will be breaks. I might not update for a while. I'll try and let my readers know, though. I don't like having my blog in the back of my mind while I'm doing other things, the four other pairs of eyes that read it burning into the back of my skull as I guiltily play Magic: The Gathering. And I'm going to write whatever I want (as usual, I suppose). Unfortunately for you, that starts now.

The title of my post refers (obviously to those of you who know me) to the fact that my girlfriend broke up with me. Yup, the very same girlfriend I took that amazing vacation with. When people ask me why (sometimes with that look which conveys "how did you screw that up? She was so nice!") I get to say, "I guess she preemptively broke things off, knowing I'd probably react badly when she told me about the times she cheated on me." So that's the cause of the free time (and probably the self-pity) mentioned in the title. And because the termination of a two-year relationship is obviously affecting me, you'll probably get to hear more about it if you decide to keep reading this blog. But I will try not to harp on it too much (though you might justifiably avoid reading for the next few days, just to be safe).

While I do have more time now that I'm not in a relationship (and consequently not playing frisbee due to not being able to look at her and the guys she decided were more important than me), I do have the LSAT coming up next weekend, so I will be spending a decent amount of time in preparing for that. You know, so I have an excuse at the ready in case I don't find my way back here as promptly as I thought.

So without further ado, a bit of a blog post:

Not About Pillows

People sometimes punch pillows
frustrated, screaming into them
to dull the sounds of sudden emotion
roiling through, released into the fabric
accompanied by dribbles of spit
and unceremonious tears.

Apparently, I shatter bicycle helmets.

An interesting analog to pillow-punching
and noisier than yelling,
the smash of plastic on cement
a harsh but empty echo
off the metal garage door

At least I know now helmets do their job
as I pick it up and examine its single dent
before bending over,
fingers wedged in the vents
and rip it apart
the plastic shell and polystyrene foam
evidently not designed to resist
the particular force I am exerting
though whether it's due to it being lateral
or emotional
I couldn't say.

I straighten, dropping the pile
of once-helmet, left wondering
what the attraction was in the first place.

Poem:
Pretty sure this doesn't need explanation, but in retrospect the series of actions/thoughts was pretty amusing. I got home, put my bike in the garage, and took my helmet off in a perfectly normal manner. Then I started to walk inside, paused, and what I honestly thought was: "This helmet is pretty old, and I don't really need to use it. And I'm pretty sure smashing things is supposed to make people feel better. Well, here goes!" I really took the time to analyze the particulars, and came to the conclusion it was the best option. THEN, and only then, did I cock my arm up and windmill it into the floor by its straps. It bounced quite a ways, but didn't actually seem much the worse for wear. So I set into it, and ripped it apart. And it DID make me feel something other than what I was trying to avoid, but unfortunately I also felt a bit aggressive, and sort of like smashing more things. I looked around briefly, but didn't see anything else that was really all that expendable, so I went inside and started writing instead. And that's how that poem came about. It's pretty rough (OBVIOUSLY), but hey, at least I'm writing again, right?

Observation (A section to skip if you don't like me wallowing in self-pity):
Hindsight is 20/20 my ass. I still have no idea what really went wrong. I look back at the relationship, and all I see are contradictions. Like a few days ago I said I was thinking about taking handball really seriously and going to more tournaments, and she encouraged me, saying she'd support me however she could, even saying she'd chip in monetarily (something I of course refused). And at my last bicycle race I said I was beginning to think the only way I'd be able to have enough money to do all the things I wanted to do was to marry rich, and she responded that she would try to get a high-paying job. Basically, what I'm trying to say was I was a bit blindsided. I still don't know how someone who is unfaithful could say those things. So as if I wasn't cynical enough before, now I get to distrust everyone for a while.
I guess I should take a moment to say that I'm not incredibly mad at her or anything. If she doesn't want to be with me, of course I don't want her to be with me. I'm just constantly frustrated by the things that keep cropping up. Little things, like she knew all my passwords to things, so I have to change them, just to be safe. Little things like picking up my phone and seeing her as the screen saver (before I obviously changed it). Little things like how I took literally 96% of my pictures with her in them, because I'm apparently an over-trusting fool who thought a good thing could last. Little things like not having someone to say good night, and I love you to when I'm finally tired enough to sleep at two in the morning. Except, of course, that last one isn't really such a little thing.
So I wish I could say things were clear in retrospect, that now I can see what went wrong, and learn, and grow, and all that sentimental crap. Instead, confusion reigns. I still can't quite believe she was capable of sleeping with another guy and lying to me so convincingly. You, dear reader, may not know her, but I can assure you there is nothing about her that would prompt that thought. She's a hard-working, talented, intelligent, innocent-looking girl. So I guess my observation for today is just that: the hyphenation. "-looking."

Exercise:
Because I don't really feel like doing a writing exercise, I think I'll just free write here for fifteen minutes. We'll see what comes of it.

Floyd had been growing decreasingly excited about his birthday as it drew nearer. The events in the days leading up to it had been mundane enough to warrant mentioning (quite a feat when you think about it, as there is really no shortage of mundanity in the world these days). In fact, it had been weeks since his routine had been broken in the slightest, and that was only because his cat had literally bored itself to death. He had been petting it as it slept (in exactly the same way he did every night before bed), and its quiet purring simply ceased. There was no wheeze, no final breath, no wisp of soul escaping into the aether. It simply grew gradually colder. Only after a few minutes had passed did Floyd actually catch on to what had occurred. He calmly picked up the body, put it in an appropriately-sized shoebox, and exited the back door to his yard, where he grabbed a shovel. With an all-too-practiced hand he dug a perfectly symmetrical grave the exact depth he required. He gently knelt and placed the box in the hole, filled in what he could, and spread the remaining soil around evenly so as not to leave an area of grass without sunlight. He surveyed his work, noting that the other graves had turned out nicely as well, but still regretting the blotch of dead grass near the first one (from before he had learned the trick about spreading the soil around after you were finished). That made three this spring. He really should look into getting better cats. Or a more exciting life, but honestly, he'd probably consider the switch in cats first. Perhaps if that didn't work out he could add an element of the unknown into his life. Like rolling some dice to determine which side of the bed he would sleep on. Yes, that would do nicely.

Me:
I'm not sure there's a lot to say here. I guess I could fill you in on some of the things I've been doing since my last post. I finished out the road biking season in an acceptable manner, and actually got pretty decent at time trialing near the end, though the 40 km state time trial was a bit more than I was ready for mentally. It didn't help that the markers on the road were in miles rather than kilometers, a fact that only really hit me when I got to the turnaround and was quite taken aback. (Yes, it should have been obvious, had I been thinking a little more. Or really, thinking at all. But I wasn't.) I think there was a good three mile section where I was just too miserable to ride well. Thoughts about never time trialing again fluttered through my brain, delightful fantasies distracting me from the torture I was putting myself through. Of course, since I wasn't concentrating on the torture, it wound up taking longer. I finished with a time in the low 57's, averaging just over 26 miles an hour. So not terrible, but as usual I was left with the thought "I could have gone faster." Which is a very frustrating thought for me to have, especially considering I knew going into the time trial I had never done one that long before and really couldn't expect that much of myself. So what I really need to be thinking is "I'll be faster next time." The only problem with that is it implies a next time, completely negating the fantasies I was clinging to about never suffering like that again. Quite a conundrum.
Most recently I've ridden my cyclocross bike a couple of times. I'd say I raced it, but the course was apparently really easy, so I'm not sure it counted as a real cross race. I did win, though, so that was pretty cool. I like the fact that the ground provides enough resistance that if you try hard you are rewarded with a gap over the person behind you. Drafting is still advantageous, of course, but it definitely feels like the strongest person has a better chance of winning than in road racing. It's too bad I'm terrible at bike handling. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that the rest of the courses are easy too...
Oh, and as you might have guessed, I'm still playing a bit of Magic: The Gathering. It's fun, and about the only time I interact with people other than my family (by choice), so I guess that's my justification. Also, it turns out I'm not terrible at it. I'm thinking about traveling a bit to see if I could have more success, but if I were to do that it would be difficult to...
PLAY HANDBALL! I'm thinking about making this my priority for the winter to see how possible it would be to play at the top level. I know there are a few people who make a living at it, but I doubt that would be my goal. I just want to see how far I can go. I really haven't been playing that long (about four years now), and I feel like I'm almost within reach of the people I've seen who play at a high level. I don't know what is required to span the gap, but I'm willing to find out.
You may think these things don't leave a lot of time for writing, and you're right. I don't know what will happen as far as that is concerned. That is especially true if I get into a decent law school. (Which reminds me that I guess I no longer have to apply to Drake to stay close to Ames...). But I will be making an honest effort at writing more, and we'll see where it goes. It's not my primary concern currently, but I doubt it will ever fade from my passions altogether. Who knows? Maybe I'll eventually man up, quit everything, and try and make it as a starving writer. But right now I'm leaning more toward attending law school and writing when it works into my schedule.

Again, I apologize for the lack of posting, if only because it came without warning. But I'm back for now! Thanks for reading.

Mostly Pictures

Ode

You sicken me with sweetness
honey, thick and sharp,
running slowly enough
to savor the process
of biting numbness
as I shrink from your
cloying ways.

Oh honey, how I've missed
the slight bumps
granulations in the smoothness,
irregular pockets of purity
when crystalline clarity
spills out and melts away.

Poem:
Honey is delicious. Also, it's a bit of a metaphor about how something too sweet can be overwhelming, but the good moments make up for it. I don't know if that comes across very well, but it was in the back of my mind while I was writing.

Observation:
Turns out this post is having a bit of trouble posting. I got an error message, and things are freezing up, so I'm just going to get what I have up (hopefully), and try again tomorrow. I think it's the pictures that are making things a bit complicated. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'll be back at it soon.

Me:
I still have vacation stories up my sleeve, but they seem less exciting the more removed I get from them, so I'll sort of skip around to the interesting stuff. Sunday we woke up quite unmolested, packed quickly, and entered the Needles section of Canyonlands. There wasn't anyone taking money, so even though we had a pass, it didn't seem like it was doing much. We hiked from Elephant Hill trailhead until we had seen some pretty views, and turned around to continue on our quest to see more parks. Needles is interesting in that it offers a different sort of rock formation to look at, but it definitely seems like it would be better to attack this park from a backpacking approach than day hikes. So I made sure we had seen what I thought was a good representation of what the park had to offer, and we were off to our next park.

Is it just me, or does this look like Snoopy the dog on his red house? Okay, I guess usually he is lying o his back in the comic and this looks like a dog on its tummy, but considering I hardly ever play the "what does that look like?" game, I thought this was pretty decent.

Next up was Capitol Reef. In a similar fashion to Canyonlands, this park doesn't have anything I would call astonishingly beautiful. It's just a nice place to be. Then again, being as partial as I am to the western United States, almost anywhere would qualify as a nice place to be as far as I'm concerned. Having witnessed Rebecca's love of water firsthand at Mill Creek, I decided the best hike for us at Capitol Reef was Sulphur Creek. The trail is simply the creek bed (though you can take an overland route to cut distance if desired. I've hiked this before, but as with every water-based trail, this offers a different view around every bend. In the later parts of the day the orange glow of the sun really brought out the color, and all in all, it was a nice, rather relaxing walk in the water. The waterfalls were pretty, too, even if I did almost fall down one. Don't worry; in addition to not dying, I even managed to catch my sunglasses as they fell off my head and threatened to plunge over the edge.

And now, by popular request (the only request), the story of how I hiked Bright Angel Point (with pictures). To understand why my sister wanted to hear about this story you should probably know some things about me. Or rather, I should clarify some things you probably already know about me. As a person terrified of dying (as I would assume many are), I take decent precautions to not put myself in situations where that might occur. As such, I tend to avoid heights. Okay, I'm just scared of heights. The other thing you have to realize is that this trail is high up in the air. There. I've pretty much set the scene. We drove into Zion after a decent night's sleep intending to hike the Narrows. However, we knew the water had been pretty high recently, and as such, had a backup plan of skirting death at high altitude prepared just in case we weren't able to go with our first option. Lucky me, the water was too high to hike in the safe canyon floor, so we got to go up on top instead. (They only let people hike the Narrows if the water is under 140 cfs for 24 hours, and that was the first day it had dipped below the mark. We came back to it later in the week (obviously, since I've written about it), but it was still quite high even then.



Also, it was hot enough that this happened:

We grabbed the shuttle to the Grotto where the trail began and started our hike. It looked like this:

And then it looked like this:




(In case it doesn't show up that well, this photo is of about eight switchbacks up what is basically a vertical wall.












Here is a better photo (not mine).













I thought that was quite a bit of elevation gain for our hike, but I knew there was another section to go. The so-called Angel's Landing. Having crested the top of our last switchback, we were greeted by a view of what lay ahead. At first glance, I thought I could probably do it. Then I noticed that what I could see was not the extent of what was in store. After going up a narrow strip of rock, we had to go down, and then back up even higher to reach our destination. We could see people (really small-looking people, really far away) climbing up and down on their hike either out or back, and I started to think this was going to be quite a task. I'm incredibly sure I wouldn't have done it on my own, but if Rebecca was going, I was too. In my head I was thinking I wanted to be there in case anything went wrong, but looking back, that's just like thinking "Well, if one of us is going to die, the other might as well be there to watch. Or potentially die with them." So not the best logic ever, but it resulted in me having something to talk about, so no complaints here. Now there weren't many places on the trail I felt like stopping to dig a camera out of my bag (since I needed all of my hands for clinging to whatever solid objects I could find), but here are some pictures I do have:

A view of what we climbed up.



















And a view of how pointless it was for me to be there in case Rebecca fell. Sheer cliff walls, and about four feet to walk on the entire way. Never again (probably).














A view down the canyon. It sure was pretty. Too bad I was constantly too afraid of where my feet were to be looking around much.

















A view back the way we had come from.














We eventually made it back to safety, hiked a bit further on the rim trail (bad idea and not worth the time or effort), and descended back to the canyon floor. The descent was quite hard on my knees, but overall I was mostly just happy to be alive.

It's a gradual process.

On tap for today: three quarters of a normal post. Didn't feel poetic, but wanted to get this up.

Observation:
My observation for today is pretty depressing. But maybe it's only depressing if you happen to be me. Here it is: It turns out I would probably not be qualified to work at McDonald's. You know, that oft-joked-about job reserved for the dregs of society? Yup. Last night made me pretty sure I wouldn't pass muster. (I used to think that expression was passing mustard. Maybe McDonald's is in my future after all?) Anyway, my dad had grilled up some really delicious vegetable burgers (spicy black bean) and told us to put whatever toppings/condiments we wanted on them. And here's what I did: I put some pickles on top of the burger, and then sprayed some ketchup and mustard onto the other side of the bun. Then, upon assembling the burger, I realized I had put the slippery stuff on the bottom bun. At that point, I just shook my head at myself. See, not only does the additional weight of the burger cause the ketchup and mustard to ooze out all over the place, but the slickness of the liquids causes the burger to lose integrity, sliding apart at the slightest opportunity. It's not like I've never had a burger before. How many times have I bitten into a sandwich and known the ketchup and mustard are on top? Thousands? I guess on the bright side, cutting McDonald's from my career options isn't such a bad thing.

Exercise:
Begin a story with the last line, and write backward (end with the first line). Read it backward, then read it forward.

(This takes forever. And it's really frustrating, because I kept wanting to write two sentences at a time as a way to segue between thoughts. Enjoyable challenge though.)

He hadn't buzzed, and was in the middle of asking the lady in white what the heck she was doing there when a brief, intense look restored him to silence. The nurse, he had quickly learned, was a sort of no-nonsense, practical, and altogether humorless individual, so it was a bit surprising to him that she had taken the time to pay him an extra visit. She seemed concerned, squinting at him over her clipboard while telling him someone was coming in to see him. He tried to tell the nurse he was in no mood to receive visitor's, but she either didn't hear him or didn't believe him. He heard the door open. By now there was no way his hair was still presentable, the pillow having flattened one side and added an interesting topiary-like feature near the top. The sheets felt a bit too warm, too clingy, restraining him from whatever slight movement he may have been considering. He felt her hand brush against his, and he turned his head, grimacing slightly. It was reassuring to have her there by his side, though pain in his torso prevented him from moving much. At least I don't have to fix the roof, he thought as he closed his eyes.

Me:
I have a lot of biking stories built up by now, so I'll take a break from recounting my vacation to bring my life up to date. Thursday morning was a disaster. Rebecca had made me oatmeal recently, and I felt like duplicating it for breakfast. I was unable. It was the blandest bowl of mush I'd ever tasted. Luckily, honey transformed it from a bland bowl of mush to a delicious bowl of sugary goodness. Of course, the quantity of honey I added probably rendered it into more of a candy than a breakfast food, but I ate it happily. The disaster continued. I was supposed to hang out laundry to dry, and despite the cloudy weather, it seemed rather dry. I even checked the weather radar and forecast. Exactly ten minutes after I finished hanging it up, I was in the kitchen packing a lunch when the pitter patter of little raindrops (big raindrops) alerted me all was not well. I went out and pulled the now-wetter-than-before laundry off the line.
But you're probably wondering what this has to do with cycling. Well, I've always noticed that the worse things go before a race, the better the race itself goes. And this was one of those times. I had a 12k time trial that evening, and my previous best time was around 17:40. My time for this particular race? 16:49. It was pretty great, and that is an understatement.
Then Friday was another time trial. This one was 20k, but I was doing it on a tandem with my dad. The thing about tandems is, when you're on the back, there is no wind to cool you off. Sure, you're more aerodynamic, but you're also blind. I couldn't see without stinging eyes for a few minutes after we finished. This one also went well, though I didn't feel nearly as good as I did Thursday. And that is an understatement. I felt awful. My calf started cramping before we'd even gotten halfway, and at one point I was sure the tandem was going to snap in half we were so out of sync with our shifting weight. Nevertheless, we were only three seconds away from having the fastest overall time of the night. We finished in 27:33, so I wasn't too unhappy.
Which brings my cycling tales up to today. Today was a road race. I was signed up for two laps of a 27 mile course, but the Iowa Games decided it was too hot. Apparently we are under some sort of heat advisory for the next four days or so, and they shortened my race to one lap. This was my sort of course. Meaning, of course, that there are hills on it. There are two major climbs, and the last comes with three kilometers to the finish. The guys who signed up for two laps are the ones who are pretty good at cycling, so I didn't have much opportunity to do interesting things. At one point there were some people attacking and I decided to participate, but I was not nearly strong enough to get away. So I sat in for the most part (took a few pulls when things slowed down), and climbed hard. The first climb has a steep descent to it, and I am still unwilling to risk anything at high speed after crashing quite a few years ago, so I was off the back by the time the group started going up. I climbed up to the back, noticed the back was moving backward in comparison to the front, and climbed pretty hard to get up to the group that was moving the right direction. I felt pretty terrible during the climb, and I'm pretty sure I was just at my limit, but by the time we got to the top of the hill I started feeling better immediately. I noticed things were still slow, so I pulled through to get the pace back up and test my legs out a bit. Sure enough, not a lot of people were feeling as good as I was. This boded well for the finale.
I sat in for quite a while doing as little work as possible and we eventually made it to the last hill. I descended in my usual slow fashion and got a bit boxed in on the ascent. I made it up to the third wheel of the group, with two people off the front. I was thinking the two guys in front of me would give a hard chase and I would be able to attack after they made the catch. However, it quickly became evident we were not getting any closer to the two guys up the road, and with only just over 1.5 kilometers to go, my options were limited. I attacked. I looked back, and there was no response from the group. The climb took quite a bit out of the group, and I got away clean. I made it up to the two up the road with almost exactly one kilometer left, but I thought the group behind might be getting organized enough to bring us back, so I didn't grab their draft like I should have. I pulled through, and one guy attacked immediately. I had no energy left, so I watched first place disappear up the road. Still scared of the group behind, I was pretty sure the kid I was with was in a different age category. I sprinted, but he came around me and got second overall. I guess I just need to realize how much of a gap is safe, but it definitely wasn't worth getting caught by the group. An assured top-three finish was better than risking it all in a bid for first.