ZACK !! IT'S 5:15 !!

So came the booming voice of Zack's Uncle Dan cutting the darkness in our room like a clap of thunder.

Zack's Uncle Dan, 80-years-old, with a sharp wit and handshake like a bear trap but can't hear a nuclear bomb if it were set off in the kitchen.

Then the negotiating starts:
Z: Uncle Dan, we're not getting up 'til 5:45.
UD: 5:25 ?
Z: FORTY-FIVE!!
UD: Thirty-five?
Z: FOUR (holding up four fingers)!! FOURTY-FIVE !!
UD: Oh, forty-five.

Zack and I stayed with his Aunt Guy and Uncle Dan in Baton Rouge (Prairieville to be exact) so we could see his family and save some $$ on a hotel room during our race weekend. Plus, Auntie and Uncle are a much better option than staying where the race is since St. Francisville, LA only has one hotel and one restaurant and neither one is that great.

Well, speaking of eating, Zack's Aunt Guy fed us like cattle heading off to slaughter and I loved every second of it. ZackPe and I contemplated making ourselves throw up so we could eat more shrimp etoufee over angel hair pasta.

Zack's got some incredible family and they don't ever seem to slow down.

So my first race in about 7 months went okay for the most part.

45 minutes in, our team leader broke a spoke and I happened to be right beside him. Within about 20 seconds I was on the side of the road locking up my brakes and giving him my wheel so he could continue. It paid off as he won the race, riding like a man possessed, but it sucked for me as I had trouble getting a new wheel and could not catch back up to the pack.

After chasing the pack for about 20 minutes I gave up and resigned to the fact that I'd be doing a long training ride by myself in the middle of BFLA (Bumble FQ Louisiana). However, funny things happen. In my time of tooling around on the bike I managed to cut the course short and ended up getting ahead of the pack. Ah, sweet revenge. Although, I was officially out of the race, I still jumped back in and rode with the pack for the next 2 hours. After that, the race got super hard and blew apart. Despite the fact that I was feeling good and riding pretty darn strong I decided to drop out when I met Zack and his Moms at the feed zone at mile 80. Yeah, I could have finished but I would have had hell to pay for the next 3 days. The difference between 80 miles and finishing up the race at 102 miles with more horrible gravel to come was like night and day. I was super happy about the way I rode and felt no shame about cutting my day short.

A Little Fun with Numbers
Over 4-- number of minutes that the race winner, Mike O., finished ahead of the next group of folks behind him. That's unreal. He rode the last 30 miles by himself. You just don't do that unless you're a genetic freak. Oh yeah, Mike is a genetic freak. He honestly should be on a pro team.

6-- number of traffic halting wrecks that ZackPe and I ran into during our trip. This has got to be a new record outside a NASCAR race

2640-- number of calories I burned during the 80 miles I actually raced

30-- seconds it took me to slam on the brakes, pop out my rear wheel and give it to our team leader who went on to win the race

4-- number of wheels I had to pull out of the spare wheel truck before I found one that worked

20-- number of minutes I rode all out before I gave up on ever catching the pack

2-- number of wrong turns I took while chasing the group. One of which ended up causing me to cut the course short and actually get back in the race.

27-- number of teeth on my uber climbing gear that I was going to specifically use on this course

21-- number of teeth on the "easiest" cog I ended up with after my wheel change-- effectively taking me from a diesel climbing gear to a gear more suited for overdrive.

3-- approximate inches of gravel and sand that was sucking everyone's wheels down and causing everyone to either crash or get off their bikes and run uphill.

3-- number of times I had to get off and walk my bike uphill. Better than most as I seemed to stay on my bike a majority of the time and pass a bunch of people who were trudging along.

1-- number of pedals I trashed on the gravel roads of Rouge-Roubaix

15-- number of times Zack's Uncle Dan and Aunt Guy made me laugh so hard that I nearly peed on myself.