The Villebois course creeped me the fuck out. Straight Cormac McCarthy shit out there. Gravel and rebar and craters and ruts. Pieces of concrete and tile and a few sad looking trees and some lumpy grass.
Weird, sort of hostile spectators and no beer.
No wonder, considering what the place used to be, and what it will be soon.
It matters not. I got a puncture halfway thru the last lap, but was well on my way to a solid mid-pack finish if I was right in counting the number of wobbly fat guys I'd been able to get by in the first few times around.
This is my favorite picture of me racing because you can't see my gut or the snot caked to my face.
I will, I will, I will finish next Sunday.
Here's my buddy Ben having a little taste.
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