Greetings, puny humans, from your hero and mine: Me.
Today, I'm going to tell you about how I won the Tennessee State Time Trial this past weekend in Rutledge, TN.
Ah, but how I do love silence. Next to the dulcet tones of my own mellifluous voice, there is possibly no sweeter sound, since this means that there is no snide rejoinder from RandoBum today. What is wrong, oh Ran-DUH-neur? Nothing to say?
RB: Congratulations, Max. You done good.
MW: Yes, I was awesome. I was maybe even more awesome than I normally am, if it's possible to ponder such a level of awesomality. When I begin to think about just how awesome I can sometimes be, I begin to fear that I might create a huge gravity well that could suck up the other paltry matter of this universe, creating a black hole with me as its tremendous iridescent center. It might be hard to ride a bicycle in such a universe, however, and so I try not to let my awesomeness reach these levels.
AM: Do nae go overboard on it, ye imbecile. So ye finally won a race. Woop-de-fookin'-do. Ye were the fastest Cat 5 out there, but there were 24 racers in other categories that beat yer miserable time.
RB: Ah, Coach Angus MacKillimiquads! So glad you could join us.
AM: Sod off.
MW: But, coach, you said that I should try to do the race in one hour, and I came in almost two minutes under that.
AM: Ye were nae even 30 seconds ahead of yer closest competitor, ye fool. It was just dumb luck that ye managed to edge past his time.
RB: Yes, Max. Do tell us how you managed to win.
MW: Well, um ... yeah. Thanks. You see, I warmed up in the parking lot, of course, with all of the other racers. The weather was nice and cool, so I did a few hard efforts out on the road, but nothing really hard. Then, when I got to the start, I had a full tank of power. And you know what kind of power Max Watzz power can be ...
AM: What-fookin'-ever. Get along with it.
MW: Yeah. So, there I was at the starting line. There were five other Cat 5s ahead of me, as well as two or three behind me. Once I got on the road, I just had to ride hard enough to keep the guys that were behind me ... well, behind me ... and pass all of the Cat 5s ahead of me.
The course went out 20 kilometers and then came back on the same road, so I knew I was doing well when I had passed four riders by the turn-around and was averaging 25.6 mph. As I started back, about one kilometer from the turn-around I saw the Cat 5 who had started behind me. That let me know that I couldn't ease off ...
AM: What the fook do ye mean, "ease off?" There's no "easin' off" in bicycle racing, ye fool! Ye stop when ye finish, or when ye fall to th' side of th' road dead ... an' even then ye' better fall dead in such a way to block th' road fer yer team mates!
RB: You're right, coach. Max really meant "recover" ...
AM: There's no "recover" in a time trial, ye idiot! Ye stop when ...
RB: No, of course not, coach. Of course not. You're right, we're wrong. No stopping. Go until you die.
AM: Damn right!
RB: Now, Max. Back to the time trial. You were at the turn-around ...
MW: Uh, yes! The turn-around. I really cranked it up then, since I now had a slight headwind. I passed a few more riders, and thought that one of them was the last Cat 5 ahead of me. It turns out that I never passed him, but closed on him enough. Near the finish there are a couple of hills, but I muscled over them beautifully -- the power of my glorious gluteals refusing to let my average speed fall much below 26 mph -- and came across the finish line to thunderous spectator applause.
AM: It was rainin' by then an' nobody even noticed ye, fool.
MW: You were there, coach? You came to my race?!
AM: I ... well, I was in th' neighborhood. There's a good restaurant up there. Nice haggis.
MW: Gosh, coach. Thanks.
AM: Ah, shut up. Do nae make any kind of thin' out of it, ye woos.
RB: Angus, Max. Thanks for joining me today to explain the wonderful world of bicycle time-trialling. And thank you even more for illustrating just how truly dysfunctional human relationships can be.
AM: Fook off.