Monday, February 22, 2010

333, the mark of the pest

Bicycling season for me starts with a vengeance this coming weekend. In the early spring of Utah’s low desert my first organized century of the season takes place. Like all season starters I am markedly undertrained for this effort.

To call this event a race would be incorrect. Everyone gets a number, but there are no timers, or judges, or even recognition for who comes in first. However, one should recognize the fact that anytime you place numbers on everyone’s back all the middle aged men are racing.

I firmly deny any intentions to race. I have been told that racing in charity and fun events is immature and frowned upon by most rational people. I, always wishing to appear as rational as possible, would never race during a recreational event. If somebody should be seen with an extra burst of energy in the last few miles, or even sprinting to the finish line, it most assuredly would not be me.

The last time I rode this event I was given the number 333. That is half the mark of the beast.
333 – The mark of the pest




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