MY FRIEND CHRIS BEATS ME MOST OF THE TIME.  Beats me on training rides.  Beats me at the races.  But, what I really like is the way he beats me.

He goes beast.

Like today. . (actually yesterday, no service at resort) 

Gun goes, he goes… and I’m thinking… will the beast make it to the finish?, because every now and then he blows and I catch and pass him.

Off he goes with the lead pack… which included Tinker Juarez.

Through the dust I could see ‘em, but they were getting smaller and smaller.

I wasn’t dogging it… Strava shows I PR’d the opening climb. (yeah Todd)

After a very fast descent, I was a handful of seconds behind.  The next long climb, I had to settle in… we still had 3 and a half hours of racing ahead of us and there was no way for me to continue that pace.

Fast forward to the second 24-mile loop.  It’s hot.  We’re at 9000’.  Not a cloud in the sky.  I’m in my groove and I’m thinking Chris will be suffering.  I’m gonna roll up on him.  The beast will blow.

Riders from the shorter events appear on the trail ahead of me.  So many black jerseys – just like Chris’s.  I keep thinking there he is and uncorking  short efforts.  But, it’s never him.

Trail starts to run out.  The long 10-minute enduro course to the bottom is peppered with riders in black.  I blow by.

Then I finish.

There he is.

The remnants of beast slowly receding,

Dust filled lungs hack out Todd, got a Coke in van?


... and I think to myself beast and beats, same letters different order... if only I could've summoned my beast maybe we'd have finished in a different order?  Someday he'll have to teach that to go beast, maybe over a Coke.


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