Up to the task, down for the count.

Entering the ring with not but your naked fists against an opponent twice as big and far more experience than you--and he's wearing boxing gloves.  Though a mountain bike, like my naked fist, may be well suited for street-fighting and cheap-shots, in the world of cyclocross, cyclocross bikes reign, rain down like blows.

Last weekend, cyclocross was fun.  This weekend, cyclocross was survival -- and survival with insufficient means of survival at that.  Granted, I love my Rocky Mountain Vertex, but she wasn't altogether suited for the "wet-grass-fest" this Saturday at the Boulder Cross Series.  Let's just say nothing really went according to plan... but that was the plan.  For the second weekend in a row, I decided to do the race last minute, and after a long week of riding, found on Saturday morning that all my Rocky Mountain kits were dirty.  Looks like I'll be suffering in the stars and stripes again today, enduring the inevitable skepticism from my peers.  

You can't teach an old dog new tricks, and you can't learn a new discipline of cycling on a whim at the end of the season without a bike.  Luckily, Rocky Mountain is providing the goods, as usual (and they are much anticipated, these goods)-- I should be racing a proper cyclocross bike, the Rocky Mountain Solo CX, soon!

Until then, I'll continue to hop the barriers and give those egotistical crossers a little surprise with my wide bars.  

Ride On, my friends.

the ponderous k